A Crown of Thorns
by MotherOfAllCats
Summary: Lyra Baratheon only wanted to do right by her House and her father, but when she is sent to live with the Starks her life changes for good. The death of her father spirals the Seven Kingdoms out of control and Lyra isn't just stuck between two Kings, but she is forced to make impossible choices-Does she choose herself or her crown? Does she support her brother or fight against him?
1. Chapter 1

**_(A/N: Hello! So, this is my first Game of Thrones fanfiction. The first couple of chapters is an introduction to Lyra Baratheon, the duaghter of Cersei and Robert. Please enjoy and feel free to review. I'll try and make chapters as long as possible!)_**

Robert looked down at his sleeping daughter. A second nightmare had brought her to his bed, and she had cried all night – not even Cersei could tackle their daughter's tears. Robert ran his hand through her daughter's thick, dark hair. Lyra was a Baratheon through and through, and nobody could take that away from Robert. His other children were all golden haired lions, but his own Lyra was his pride and his fury.

Robert ran a hand through Lyra's dark hair and kissed the top of her head before slipping out the bed – allowing his little girl to sleep soundly. He remembered when Lyra had only been a toddler, three or so, and she had first discovered Robert's mighty War Hammer, she had laughed and tried to take hold of the weapon. Her small hands had curled around the thick handle, and she tried to lift it. Robert chuckled as he watched and ruffled her dark curls – not yet long enough to be braided into any style. Lyra had looked up at her father with eyes as blue as sapphires and pointed to the hammer. She had called it a 'ha-ha' and Robert had yet again laughed and lifted Lyra into his arms. She had been the only child he had that he knew he truly loved. It had been in that moment, when Lyra had tried to lift the War Hammer that Robert wished his little Lyra had been born a boy – like his first child with Cersei. But no matter how hard Lyra tried, she would never be able to lift any weapon, never mind a War Hammer. Lyra would never ride into battle, she would be like every women in the Seven Kingdoms and would have to wait for her husband to come back from War.

When Lyra had come to his chambers, another night of terrors had plagued her, and she had tripped over her nightgown trying to run past Robert's guards and into the Chambers. Robert had been thankful he had been alone that night – Lyra had started to notice that his attentions had turned from Cersei long ago, especially after she had met her half-brother, Edric Storm during a stay with Renly. Robert would never admit that it was perhaps a bad idea to have the two meet.

But Lyra had gotten along brilliantly with her half-brother, but her younger brother had been the cause of her nightmares, both in her dreams and in her waking hours. Robert despised Joffery, he was his heir and eldest loving son, but his cruelty knew no bounds, and Lyra had been his favourite thing to torment. Robert blamed it on Cersei being Lyra's mother; Cersei had blamed Lyra for Joffery's punishments, for any scolding he would receive from Robert. And Lyra would be left to bear the brunt of both her mother's and her brother's wrath.

And yet, as Robert looked down at his daughter, too small to be encased in the sheets of his massive bed, he couldn't help but be overwhelmingly proud. She was strong and stubborn as any Baratheon, but she was also incredibly kind and intelligent – it was a shame that she wouldn't be his heir. She would have made an excellent Queen.

A heavy knock drew Robert's attention away from his daughter. Robert heard words being exchanged outside, but Robert had no patients to hear them. Robert pulled open the door and found himself face to face with the golden-haired bastard.

"What do you want?" Robert growled, the early morning sun had barely risen, and Robert was sure no man should be awake at such an ungodly hour, never mind a man in full armour. Jaime Lannister smirked at Robert, he may have been an attractive man, but he was as untrustworthy as his sister. Jaime clutched the hilt of his sword; it was almost like a warning.

"My sister told me that the little Princess Lyra has disappeared from her chambers again, I came to inform you that we are doing all we can to find her." Robert could hear the poison in his words; he wasn't blind to the fact that Jaime cared little for her eldest niece. She was no Lannister princess, and he wasn't bothered that Lyra was missing. Robert only shook his head.

"No need to wake the whole castle, Lyra's safe." Robert grumbled, open the door to reveal Lyra asleep, her dark hair spooling across the pillow she had laid her head on. Jaime glanced inside, "what are you doing looking for her so early?" Robert asked, not as Jaime's brother-in-law, but his King. Jaime simply smirked, he hadn't entered the room just yet, he knew better than to barge past his King.

"Princess Lyra is to break fast with the Queen and her siblings each morning before her lessons – and she is running off schedule." Jaime explained, smoothly. Jaime did a lot of things smoothly, Robert thought, he rarely knew much about his family's schedule, after all, Cersei had planned most of it. Robert heaved a sigh before walking towards his bed. Gently, as though she might break, Robert shook Lyra awake. Robert had to admit, she was the only thing he was ever gentle with.

"Time to wake, my little Storm Queen." Robert whispered. Lyra was his one surviving child in his marriage that looked like him, and he loved her more than he had loved anything, save Lyanna Stark. Robert wondered how different his life would be if Lyra had been Lyanna's and not Cersei's. Lyra groaned and twisted slightly. She opened her big blue eyes and stared up at her father. Robert was so glad Lyra's eyes weren't green. She stretched and opened and closed her mouth slightly. Finally, she sat up, and scooped her hair out of her face. Her hair as dark as his own.

"Papa?" Lyra asked, Robert smiled and lifted Lyra out of the bed, balancing Lyra before letting her go. She was getting bigger, and lifting Lyra had become slightly difficult, Robert doubted Jaime could even attempt it. Robert watched as Lyra looked around the room, blurry eyed, before her eyes landed on Jaime.

"Ser Jaime?" Lyra asked sleepily. Robert grinned at Jaime; Lyra was the only one of her children with Cersei that wouldn't call Jaime 'uncle' – which she didn't extend to any of her other Uncle's. Jamie gave a swift bow.

"I've come to escort you to your chambers so you may get ready for the day." Jaime offered, Lyra stared at Jaime for a moment, before nodding her head sleepily. Lyra then turned back to Robert, and smiled sleepily.

"Bye, Papa." Lyra murmured, shuffling towards Jaime, her nightgown swishing around her. Robert watched his daughter go, the door closing behind her. He walked towards his bed and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face exhaustedly. Lyra was all he had ever wanted in a child, it was just a shame she had not been born a boy.

* * *

Lyra didn't particularly like her Uncle Jaime. Jaime wasn't cruel nor was he terrible, in fact, when Lyra looked at him he was exactly what she pictured a Prince of the Age of Heroes to look at. But Lyra had heard the stories of how her father got the Iron Throne, and she knew exactly what role her Uncle Jaime had played. His gold cloak swished behind him, and Lyra watched it move back and forth.

Gold – a Baratheon colour, but it didn't look like a Baratheon colour on Jaime. It just made him look more like a lion. Jaime didn't speak, not that he ever really spoke to Lyra. It seemed he didn't particularly like Lyra either.

When they stopped, they were in front of Lyra's chambers. Jaime looked down at Lyra before looking at the door. His eyes were as bright as emeralds, just like her mother's were.

"That's you back safe and sound, Lyra." Jaime's voice was cold as ice, Lyra wondered if he had looked and sounded the exact same way when he had killed the Mad King, or when he looked at the remains of the Targaryen children. Jaime nodded to Lyra's guards. "Make sure the Princess doesn't wonder off again." Jaime told them, smiling charmingly again. The guards nodded and opened the door for Lyra. Lyra turned back to her uncle, and smiled up at him

"Thank you, Ser Jaime." Lyra muttered, remembering what he had told her when she was only five. Being called 'uncle' had made Jaime feel old; she had done, what she had thought, was a kindness towards her uncle. Lyra didn't wait for Jaime to say anything else, she simply slipped into her room where some Ladies waited to help her dress.

Lyra hated being dressed by other people – it was her least favourite part of being a Princess. She watched herself in the mirror being dressed in a silk red dress. Too dark to be Lannister colours, but red enough that Lyra knew it would anger her father greatly. She watched as her dark locks were braided and piled on the top of her head. It was just like her mother wore it. Lyra couldn't understand why she had to be dressed like her mother – she didn't _look_ like Cersei Lannister after all. Her mother was a golden haired lioness, with eyes like gleaming emeralds. And Lyra, Lyra had hair as black as coal and eyes that looked like they were reflecting a storming sea. Lyra looked just like her father, and she knew that it angered Cersei to no end, to the point Lyra was sure Cersei was doing everything to erase Robert from Lyra. Lyra felt as a gold necklace was clasped around her throat and she was sprayed with sweet smelling perfume. Lyra eyed her reflection tiredly; she looked like every high-born girl in King's Landing now, just like Cersei Lannister.

* * *

Robert sat down across from Jon Arryn and ran a hand through his growing beard. Robert had sat across from Jon a million times, more times than Robert could care to count since becoming King, and each time, Jon looked at him disapprovingly – especially when it came to Robert's children. The topic of this morning was Lyra and Joffery. Robert's eldest children and the two children could not be more different. Robert took a swig of his wine, and gave a sigh.

"Lyra has had more nightmares since Joffery could talk than I've had whores," Robert complained, drinking more of his wine. "I've never seen her scared like that, that boy is more of a wee shit than I could have ever imagined. I blame his bitch of a mother, how Lyra turned out the way she did. The Gods seemed to only bless one of my children." Robert rubbed his face. Jon hummed and nodded his head.

Jon had remembered when Robert's son by Cersei had been born – a stillborn with hair as black as any Baratheon's. But then they had Lyra, she was born weak and prematurely, when Jon had heard he thought she would suffer the same fate as her brother. Something happened that shocked them all, however, Lyra managed to live and with each day she had gotten stronger and stronger. Jon had never seen a child more like Robert, in both stubbornness and in looks – even Robert's bastards could barely compare to the Princess Lyra.

But then Cersei had given birth to three more children, all of them with gold hair and green eyes, Lyra may have had Robert's colouring but she was clearly Cersei's daughter with all of her mother's beauty – but there was none of Robert in her siblings, and Jon had noticed that more and more with each passing year.

"Lyra is blessed by the Mother and the Maiden, but your other children have time to blossom and grow before you make that judgment. Especially in Joffery's case, perhaps you should spend some more time with the lad-" Robert laughed loudly at Jon's suggestion.

"My good man, Cersei has huddled that boy so close I'm surprised he's still not suckling on his mother's tit. There is no saving him now, if only Lyra could have been a boy, I wouldn't have a problem with what Joffery did or what he said. Gut the peasant boy's dog, sleep with whatever whores he wanted to – but no, he's going to be King, and if his sister already has nightmares about him, Gods forbid what the realm will have." Robert clicked his fingers and a servant poured more wine into his goblet. "Do you see the problem, Jon? The child I want as my heir was born as a girl, my son is a shit that torments his siblings and my wife is trying to turn all my children against me. Is this damned Throne even worth it?" Robert asked. Jon was used to Robert complaining about Joffery, and he had even heard how he had tormented Lyra – or more how Lyra _let_ Joffery torment her so that her younger siblings didn't have to face it.

"Robert, we've talked about all we can when it comes to the children. You've said nothing has hardened Lyra, no matter what you've done and yet nothing Joffery has done has made her cower in fear. So, what do you suggest we do? I have said myself that you should have someone to foster her as you were once fostered. You have said you would only trust her with me, and I am far too old to foster another Baratheon so long as I live. You were far too much." Jon joked and Robert gaffed loudly.

Jon had suggested numerous things to Robert when it came to protecting Lyra from Joffery – after all, Lyra was the only child Robert ever seemed to favour. It had been a queer sight for Jon, when he witnessed Robert holding Lyra for the first time. His body was still hard from battle, and he was as clean-shaven back then and for a moment, Jon thought Robert was going to leave Lyra like he had all his bastards. After all, Lyra couldn't secure him the Seven Kingdoms. But when Robert held her tightly to him, Jon had heard Robert whisper down to his daughter, so softly Jon thought he was hearing things. Lyra had been the first thing Jon had seen Robert love since his rebellion, and had been the only child he had seen great care for.

Robert shook his head. "I couldn't send Lyra anywhere in this cursed lands. The Tyrell's asked for her hand in marriage but they were Dragon lovers, the lot of them." Robert spat, "and Tywin offered more than once," Robert growled, "like I would let him get his hands on my daughter! Look how her mother turned out! And I won't dare send Lyra to Dorne – not like you suggested." Robert continued to swig at his drink.

"What about with Ned? If there is anywhere Lyra can flourish it is under his guidance." This was not the first time Jon had suggested this to Robert, and Robert pulled a face. "I know you don't like it, Robert, but I want you to think about the future for one moment, and by future, I mean when you've passed the crown to Joffery. When you die, and Joffery is King things might be more difficult – especially if his current behaviour continues. Even the Mad King had his supporters to keep him safe. The North is vast, and if the Starks, as level headed as they are, were to standby Joffery the majority of Westeros would surely follow." Jon explained. Robert sat silent for a moment, stroking at his beard.

"And I won't send my daughter up to that sullen wasteland! Lyanna is entombed there forever, I won't have my eldest daughter face the same fate! Lyra deserves to flourish, have the wind in her hair and to be surrounded by flowers." Robert yelled, it didn't seem to shake Jon, however.

"It's simply a suggestion, she'll be safe there Robert, away from Joffery's cruelty and away from her mother. You'll be able to deal with Cersei and the other children sufficiently enough once you've moved Lyra out of the way. Besides, it could be good for her. Ned has a son, you have a daughter." Jon explained, he rarely encouraged a political marriage where Robert was concerned. But Lyra had brought back the light that seemed to have left Robert when Lyanna died. Robert thought for a moment.

"A Stark and a Baratheon." Was all King Robert said, taking another drink of his wine.

* * *

Cersei watched Lyra as she embroidered. Cersei was sure her daughter would be beautiful when she hit womanhood; she was already beginning to show the sharp angles and slim figure of the Lannisters. But her colouring was more Baratheon than Cersei would have liked. Cersei heard the footsteps behind her and turned, she knew exactly who it was before her own emerald eyes met his – Jaime smirked at his sister. Cersei cursed the fact that Lyra wasn't Jaime's, or that she didn't favour the Lannister side of her family. Especially when Cersei saw Lyra with Myrcella.

"It's surprising, isn't it?" Jaime asked as he stood beside Cersei. They were glancing down at Lyra and Myrcella from a balcony, watching as the two girls worked on their sewing. Myrcella was still learning, and even from the great distance, Cersei saw that her youngest daughter still wasn't brilliant – not that her Septa dared criticise her work. Cersei didn't bother to question Jaime; they had the same conversation every time Jaime laid eyes on Cersei's only child with Robert. "Isn't it funny she hasn't grown any horns yet? I hear Baratheon woman have antlers bigger than any stag." Cersei's eyes flashed, she watched as Lyra handed her work over to her Septa. The Septa inspected it before nodding her head, dismissing Lyra from her class.

"She's my daughter, Jaime." Was all Cersei said, watching as Lyra walked away from her Septa and through large double doors. There was a spring in her step and the gold necklace around her throat twinkled. "Lyra is as much as me as she is Robert." Cersei defended. Jaime snorted.

"You're right; perhaps she'll sprout antlers when she first bleeds. Wouldn't that be an interesting sight?" Jaime teased. But upon seeing Cersei's face, he relented. "I didn't come here to tease you about your girl – I came to tell you some news I thought you would like to hear, it's about Robert." Cersei's ears perked up only slightly, but she didn't seem too phased.

"Whatever whore my husband is fucking or whatever pit he has drank himself into, I'm not interesting." Cersei spat. Whatever news surrounded Robert was little concern of Cersei's – she had stopped caring long ago. Still, Jaime would tell her whatever news satisfied him, even if revolved around Robert.

"I overheard him talking about Lyra with Jon Arryn, they were talking about marriage." Jaime hummed, Cersei only rolled her eyes. Lyra w _as_ Robert's eldest daughter; of course he would be looking for matches for her. She was a strategic political weapon, even if Cersei wanted to vomit at the idea. Lyra and Myrcella were perfect pawns for whatever game Robert wanted to play and, like Rhagar Targaryn had once been, all of her children had been considered desirable by many noble houses.

Cersei entertained the idea of Lyra being married off to one of the Southern houses, even the Tyrell's had thrown their hat in – more than once. But Robert had been fussy, he had turned down everyone for one reason or another, mostly due to paranoia, and Cersei had been grateful in a way. It meant she could keep her daughter as close to her as she could.

"And who are they thinking about this time?" Cersei asked, bored of the conversation entirely. Jaime grinned, his eyes fixed solely on Myrcella.

"They want to send her up to marry one of Ned Stark's children, the eldest boy I think. Or maybe it'll be the Ned Stark's bastard? Fitting, don't you think? House Baratheon started with a bastard and will end with a bastard." Jaime played, still grinning. Cersei turned her head quickly, her mouth slightly agape. Robert had suggested many husbands, and many families had suggested more sons than Cersei could count, but Ned Stark's son was certainly a candidate that Cersei had never expected.

"Robert is planning what? He will not send my daughter up to that frozen wasteland! I forbid it, I will not allow it!" Cersei hissed. Jaime raised his brows, and looked at his sister incredulous.

"Cersei, think about it. People are already starting to notice Lyra doesn't look like her siblings, that she doesn't look like our children. How long before they start pointing it out to Robert, or worse, the people decide to do something about it themselves? Lyra is a liability to us, and she will be the end of us if we aren't careful. But if she's in the North, who's going to question it? Most Northerners haven't seen Robert's children, and those that have seen Robert? Well, Lyra will look just like him and when she acts differently from the other children; we can just blame it on the North." Jaime explained.

Cersei listened to Jaime, and he was right, _of course he was right._ But when Cersei glanced at her Lyra, she wasn't just Robert's daughter, not in the way that Jaime made her out to be. No, Lyra was Cersei's, and she wouldn't let Robert take her daughter to the furthest reaches of Westeros, not without a fight. Cersei stormed past Jaime, she was going to fight to keep her daughter with her or even at the very least, she would fight to keep her daughter in the South. Jaime turned, watching his sister.

"Cersei, _think_ of the good it will do." Jaime tried not to plea, but Cersei turned to face Jaime, her blonde hair fanning out around her.

"If you think I'm going to let anyone take my baby from me, you're wrong." Cersei snarled, she would find Robert and deal with her husband herself.

* * *

Lyra climbed into a small nook in a library, hidden amongst the books that had been collected over the centuries, nobody could find her, not her mother, not Joffery and not her father. When she was only four, her Uncle Tyrion had shown her the nooks when she wanted to hide from her mother's wrath. But Tyrion was not in King's Landing, and even if he was, he wouldn't dare tell anyone where she was hiding. No, her Uncle Tyrion would always protect her.

Lyra cracked open the book, and flipped through the pages. Each couple of pages was a Noble House of Westeros, both extinct and surviving. Lyra loved the history that surrounded the Seven Kingdoms, but more importantly, she loved the Age of Heroes, and all the myths that surrounded them. She especially liked the one about the last Storm Queen, although nothing bet her Uncle Renly's retelling of the tale. He would do it so dramatically that Lyra would fall in love with each retelling. Lyra sometimes dreamed she could be the last Storm Queen, just as brave and strong. And she would find a husband just as strong, and she would make her House proud.

But Lyra was only a little girl of nine, and the Age of Heroes were only stories and Lyra was a living, breathing girl that nobody would tell stories about. Lyra closed the book at the sound of footsteps and Lyra held her breath. There was no sound of clanging, so Lyra knew it wasn't a Maester. Lyra stayed quiet as the footsteps grew closer.

"You know, Lyra, you should always find a new hiding place." Lyra recognised the voice before she saw the owner. Her Uncle Tyrion stood just outside the small nook that Lyra had crawled into. Lyra tried to contain her excitement as she tried to scramble out of the nook. Tyrion caught sight of the book Lyra was reading and smiled. "You really need to choose better literature. It dampens the mind to read the same book over and over again." Lyra clutched the book close to her chest. She didn't care if it did dampen her mind, she loved the book more than she would ever admit. Lyra hid the book behind her back.

"How have you been?" Lyra asked then, and Tyrion mulled over the question. He always mulled over the questions he was asked. Lyra has missed her Uncle, he had gone to Casterly Rock on some business or other, Lyra didn't really pay attention. But when he went away, he usually brought a new book for Lyra to read.

"I've been good, tired, but good. Let's say there is many adventures to be had when your Father doesn't care for you." Tyrion joked lightly. Lyra had known the animosity her grandfather felt towards her Uncle, Tywin didn't hide it well. Lyra smiled and sat down on the ground.

"I wish I didn't always have eyes on me, Joffery's getting worse, and Mother doesn't care. He killed a kitchen cat just last week and cut the kittens from its belly. I swear I was near sick, and Papa was so angry he knocked two of Joffery's teeth out in one punch." Lyra informed Tyrion. "He's the meanest boy in all Seven Kingdoms." Lyra condemned. Tyrion sat down beside his niece, Lyra had grown taller than him now, and Tyrion met her eyes with his own mismatched ones

"Yes, Joffery is a funny one. Not as smart as you are, my darling niece, and certainly not as strong." Tyrion shook his head. "But our history isn't made up of nice men, now is it?" Tyrion asked, pointing to the book that Lyra had been reading. Lyra nodded her head, and looked down at the book.

"I suppose it isn't." Lyra paused before looking at Tyrion again. "Uncle Tyrion, do you think the rumours are true? That Papa wants to marry me to one of the Stark boys." Lyra had heard her father and Jon Arryn speaking, they seemed more than happy with the arrangement – but of course, nobody was going to talk to Lyra about it. No, her mother had warned her when the time came for her to get married; she would simply be shipped off. Only her mother would care about her feelings then. Tyrion raised his brows; they made his strange forehead seem even stranger.

"I'm afraid I don't know if it's true or not, Lyra, but you should never listen to rumours, especially in this city." Tyrion warned, Lyra nodded her head and took Tyrion's hand.

"You would tell me if you found out, wouldn't you?" Lyra asked. Tyrion kissed the back of Lyra's hand gently. She was as sweet as Myrcella and as kind as Tommen. Tyrion had wondered how his sister had had such sweet children. Lyra had been the first sweet thing Cersei had ever created, and watching her worry now was something Tyrion didn't want.

"If I hear anything at all, I will let you know. But until then, you are far too young to get married an you'll have nothing to worry about." Tyrion soothed, or at least, he hoped that nobody would push marriage onto a nine year old girl.

* * *

"Please tell me the rumours aren't true, Robert, you're not selling our eldest daughter to the _Starks_?" Cersei yelled, pushing open Robert's chamber's door. Robert glanced up at his wife lazily. He had regretted marrying Cersei, more than regretted it. After the war, he had his choice of woman and yet, he married Cersei, daughter to one of the richest families of Westeros. He had wondered if it had been worth it. Each turn, each decision Robert made was questioned, and not just by his Small Council. Even now, with Cersei standing angrily in his room, Cersei glared at Robert and waited for his answer.

"Nobody said anything about selling," Robert provided, standing up so that he could show his kingly power. "She is being fostered by my friend, just as I was fostered, and it did me the world of good." Cersei looked at Robert like he was something she had stood on and not like the King he was. Lyra had the same glare, Robert thought, it had been the few things that made her look exactly like Cersei.

"Fostering?" Cersei asked in disbelief, she stalked towards Robert. "You are not taking my child away so that somebody else can raise her! I forbid it!" Cersei's yells got louder so that she was toe-to-toe with Robert. "My daughter will not leave my side, Lyra won't leave my side as much as Joffery, Tommen or Myrcella won't, not until she is a woman and she is married." Cersei hissed. Robert could barely contain the anger that had boiled up in him the moment Cersei had come in and began to yell He stepped closer to Cersei, almost closing the gap between them, and grabbed a tight hold of her jaw with one hand.

"Listen to me, woman, those children are as much mine as they are yours and I am your King. It is a great honour to have our child fostered by anybody, and it is a great honour bestowed upon any family that should take on our child. So, if you know what's good for you, you damned bitch, you will listen to me and me only. If my daughter is to be fostered then she is to be fostered by who I choose, and if choose for Lyra to be married she will be married." It was enough of a warning, or it would have been for most women. But Robert knew that Cersei Lannister was not most women, as did most of Westeros. But in that moment, only Cersei and Robert stood in the room, staring venomously at each other.

Robert knew that his decision to send Lyra away would have been a difficult one, and one that he wouldn't be able to get Cersei to agree on. Cersei managed to pull out of Robert's grip and stepped back, rubbing her jaw, she glared up at Robert. If looks could kill, Robert would be dead a thousand times over.

"Then why can't you send her to Casterly Rock with my father? She will be safe there!" Robert regarded Cersei with a tired look. He was done with this argument, has he had been done with countless others, and just shook his head.

"This argument is ridiculous. I am your King and whatever I say is final! Lyra will be fostered with Ned Stark and that is final!" Robert yelled, he opened his mouth to yell some more, when he caught sight of the blue eyed girl watching him in the doorway. In his argument, he had almost forgotten that he had called Lyra to his chambers to discuss the matter of fostering. Cersei turned too, her eyes landing on Lyra. It hadn't been the first time that the young princess had seen her parents arguing, but both Cersei and Robert hated to argue in front of the children. Marriage wasn't bliss, but they should have been allowed to dream for a little while. Lyra curtseyed low and walked into the room, smiling brightly at her mother and father, Robert knew that Lyra was trying to ignore the arguing.

"Lyra, good. Come in." Robert ushered Lyra in with a large sweep of his hand. Lyra walked closer to her parents, though her Mother didn't look at her, she did place her hands on Lyra's shoulders, and squeezed them tightly. Seeing them both together didn't make sense in Robert's mind, but he watched the two of them for a moment, pouring himself some wine. He certainly needed it after the argument with Cersei and the news he was going to tell his daughter. It was clear Cersei wasn't going to leave Lyra's side as her green eyes watched Robert wearily. "I have some news, I have sent a raven to my friend in the North, and you remember I told you about him, Lord Eddard Stark?" Robert tried to explain it as simply as he could – but he wasn't known for being sensitive. Robert saw Cersei's fingers tighten on Lyra's shoulders. Lyra was dressed in Lannister colours; it was like another jab towards Robert – another way that Cersei could fight Robert. "Well, I have wrote to ask if you can stay with him for a while, would you like that?" Lyra looked up at her father quizzically. She spent far too much time with the notorious Imp.

"Why?" Lyra asked, and Robert smiled at her daughter, at least there was some sense in her. "I won't have to marry one of them, will I?" It was Cersei's face then that drew Robert's attention. Robert ruffled Lyra's hair slightly.

"It would be ideal, but you don't have to marry anyone you don't want to – I told your mother that too. And you'll be going up there so you can meet new friends and learn new things. I was fostered at the Eyrie long ago, and I made my friends and family there, just as you will." Robert explained, still, Lyra looked at him with those inquisitive blue eyes of hers.

"Is it my duty?" Lyra asked him then. Robert wanted to damn all ideas of duty then, but they had all done their duty at some point, and Lyra would be no different. Robert turned away from his daughter then, and Lyra knew what that must have meant. She turned to her mother then, and saw Cersei glare at Robert.

"Why can't you tell her the truth, Robert? Why don't you tell her that it's your own stubbornness?"

* * *

Whether it was supposed to be her duty or not, Lyra didn't know – but what she did know was that she was going to be fostered in the North no matter what was said to her father. Still, Lyra had heard only good things from the Starks, even her mother had said 'they were at the very least honourable'. The only person that seemed to find it laughable that Lyra was going North was Joffery – and that didn't surprise her in the slightest.

Joffery had done everything to tease Lyra, even going as far to point out that she would be dressed like a peasant, or be fed the Wolves.

"Maybe you'll bare his pups." Joffery had laughed, he was tall for his age, and although Lyra was taller, he still towered over her. "Wouldn't that be funny? If you married one of them, you'd become a bitch!" Joffery had said similar things all week, and Lyra was struggling to hold her tongue. It was almost laughable that he would do it out of ear-shot from their father, but if Robert had knocked two baby teeth from Lyra, she would certainly keep away from him. Still, Joffery teased Lyra, poking fun whenever he could. He had called Lyra more things than she could possible count since finding out that she would be going to the North, more things than a child of Joffery's age should know the meaning of. Lyra tightened her fists and turned her back, she had to finish packing and she wouldn't sit and listen to Joffery much longer.

"You're just jealous!" Lyra said shakily, she wasn't sure why she had said it, only that it needed to be said. There was a grave silence behind her, and Lyra held her breath, Joffery might hit her again. But he wouldn't dare, their father always knew when Joffery lifted his hands to Lyra, Lyra never told but Robert always knew

"Jealous? Me?" Joffery sounded affronted, Lyra could hear him storm towards her, she felt his tight grasp on her wrist as he spun her around to face him. "I'm going to be King and you will respect me!" Joffery hissed. Lyra blamed her mother for all of this, Joffery was so obsessed with becoming King it was like he forgot that their father still lived and breathed. Lyra struggled to get out of Joffery's grip and each time she moved he squeezed her hand harder. "Well, why don't you bow to me, bitch?" Joffery had leaned in too close, and Lyra began to panic. He got crueller and unpredictable with each passing day, and suddenly his close proximity scared her. Lyra wasn't thinking, but she had remembered what her father said; _a good soldier always has the element of surprise._ Well, Lyra had the element of surprise right now; Joffery was slightly taller than her and overestimated his own strength. Without thinking, Lyra shut her eyes tight and swiped upwards. She felt her hand connect with Joffery's cheek.

Faster than Lyra had expected, Joffery let go of Lyra's wrist and pressed his hands to his cheek, tears beginning to form in his brilliant green eyes. Lyra wasn't sure but she thought she heard him threaten to tell their mother before scurrying away. Lyra felt a cold sense of dread go through her, even if Joffery had started it, Lyra had hit the Crowned Prince, and that was a lot worse than a boy tormenting his sister. Worried that she would have to face her mother's wrath, Lyra ran towards the throne room where Robert was holding court. Her father would understand – he always did.

When she arrived, Lyra was more than thankful her mother and Joffery weren't in the throne room; it meant she had at least beaten them there. People curtseyed as Lyra walked through the throne room, each lower than the other. But when she reached the Iron Throne, her father looked bored. It was like his eyes hadn't registered it was her for a second, but when they did, they lit up. Robert tried to sit up as straight as he could in the large, Iron Throne, and Lyra tried to ignore the eyes of the gold cloaks around her.

"What can I do for you, Princess?" Robert asked, giving Lyra a little wink. But even the playful attitude of her father did little to soothe her. Suddenly, she realised that all the eyes of the Court were on Lyra, and she began to play with the sleeve of her dress.

"Well, you see-"Lyra began, but before she could finish the doors opened again and Joffery came marching in, their mother at his side. It was safe to say they were both furious. Lyra gulped and took a shaky step back; her last few days in King's Landing would certainly be spent in her chamber. Joffery pointed an accusatory finger at Lyra.

"There she is Mother! She did this to me!" Joffery yelled, pointing at the scratches on his cheek and the red-ish/purple mark that was beginning to surround them. If it weren't for her fear of her mother, Lyra would have been proud of her handiwork. Lyra heard her father stand up behind her, but was too afraid to turn. Joffery liked to get her off her guard.

"What's the meaning of this?" Robert roared, and Lyra was suddenly reminded of the King her father was. He might have become slightly heavier in his age, but that meant little to nothing when it came to the authority he held. Robert's shout had caused both Joffery and Cersei to stop in their tracks. Robert regarded both his children and his wife. "Well?" Robert asked, and Lyra knew one of them had to answer soon; Robert hated asking for things more than ones. Joffery stumbled forward, pointing a finger at Lyra again.

"She hit me Father, look!" Joffery pointed at his face. Robert didn't move, but he still inspected the injury before turning to Lyra. Lyra wasn't going to deny it, she might have been scared of the repercussions but she was no liar. Robert only had to look at her face to see the guilt written across it. Still, he raised his brows.

"Did you hit him?" It was only a simple question, but it was enough for Lyra to feel the tears spill from her eyes. Her bottom lip trembled as she tried to tell her father what had gone one before she had hit Joffery; Robert nodded and listened before turning back to Cersei. "Get the boy out of my sight!" Robert commanded, shooing them away with his hand. "Snivelling because he got what he deserved, I've told him before that one day someone won't take to his vile attitude." Cersei looked more shocked than Lyra did. Lyra had hit and marked the Prince, but her father's gaze sat steadily on her mother.

"You'll let her get away with it? With no punishment?" Cersei asked. Cersei rarely punished her children, but where Joffery's cruelty was involved, everybody else was at fault. Robert simply sat down on his great throne.

"What would you have me do? Don't you think both the children have punished each other enough? Now, be gone with you." Robert commanded. Cersei only grabbed Joffery and led him from the Throne Room. Robert's gaze then fell back on Lyra. "You really hit your brother?" He asked again, and when Lyra nodded her head, still afraid of the trouble she had gotten herself into, Robert let out a large booming laugh. He beaconed Lyra forward and when she did come forward, he scooped her up and sat her on his knee. "Ours is the Fury!" He roared their house words, beaming down at his daughter. Lyra felt a sense of relief roll through her, and caught the eye of Jon Arryn who simply shook his head at Robert.

* * *

Saying goodbye to her family was like pulling teeth. Little Tommen and Myrcella had clung to Lyra's skirts and cried at her leaving them. She had hugged them both tightly and promised at the very least to write them when she could. That seemed enough to get Myrcella to let go, and little Tommen copied his sister only after being persuaded a bit more. She would certainly miss the two them terribly, the next time Lyra would see them, she was sure she wouldn't recognise them. Next to say goodbye to her was Joffery. The marks on his face still hadn't healed, and he looked at Lyra venomously, but knew he could do little with their father standing right there – Father always protected her. Joffery and Lyra gave each other a brief hug, but it felt like far too long as Joffery squeezed her tight enough that Lyra was sure he was breaking, or trying to break, her ribs. When he finally let go he smiled at his sister.

"Safe trip, maybe the next time I see you, I'll be on the Throne." Joffery bragged, Lyra hoped that she would never see her brother on the Iron Throne, but she wouldn't dare say that out loud, not with their mother only inches from them. So instead, Lyra smiled prettily and bobbed her head.

"Let's hope we won't be parted that long, brother." Lyra parted, walking towards her mother. Cersei Lannister was tall and beautiful, with hair that had been kissed by the sun and eyes that shown so brightly. Lyra wished she looked like her mother, just as her siblings did.

Cersei captured her eldest daughter in a hug and pulled her close, kissing Lyra's cheek. "I promise we won't be parted long, my darling." Lyra nodded her head and hugged her mother back, even if Joffery was her mother's favourite, Lyra didn't want to be gone for too long. It seemed like forever when Cersei finally let Lyra go, and even when she did let Lyra go, she was reluctant. Next to say goodbye to Lyra was her father.

It would be a whole new world without Robert Baratheon near her; after all, her father protected her from all harm. Robert didn't say much as he lifted Lyra up and on to her horse, she was taller than him when she sat astride the great black beast that Jon Arryn had gotten her for her ninth name day. Robert kissed the back of his daughter's hand, his kiss was scratchy due to his growing beard, and Lyra tried not to laugh. Robert met his daughter's eyes then and smiled up at her. "Ned Stark will keep you safe, my Storm Queen, and remember our words whenever you feel alone" Lyra gazed down at her father; it was rare that he ever spoke so tenderly in public. Lyra nodded her head, and bit back tears. _Baratheon's don't cry,_ Lyra had to remind herself. When she met her father's eyes, she saw that even he seemed sad to see her go.

"Ours is the Fury," Lyra whispered, just loud enough for Robert to hear, and he grinned at her, nodding his head proudly, his great golden crown glittering in the sun light.

 _ **(A/N: That's it for Chapter One and I really hoped you liked it! Please remember to review :D I also want to add that I wanted to show a more tender side of Robert. I've always wondered what he would be like if he had a child that wasn't completely a Lannister, so please, if you think he's too out of character, don't be mad. He'll be back to his usual self soon!)**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**(A/N: Hey to both my new and current readers! Thank you for all the lovely reviews so far! I wanted to reply to them all right away, but I didn't want to give the story away. But, I can answer at least one - I will be following as much of the main story line as possible. Which includes the fate of the Stark family. As for it being a Jon/Lyra story, or a Lyra anyone...you'll just have to wait to find out! But I want to thank everyone who has either favourited, followed or left a review so far. Please remember to review and happy reading!)**_

Robb Stark had a hard time understand why the daughter of King Robert would be staying with the Starks. Even though his father had explained to him over and over again, Robb just couldn't seem to grasp it. After all, she was a _princess_! What could the Starks of Winterfell have that she didn't? Besides, if Sansa was anything to go off, princesses weren't fun. All they seemed to do was sit in castle and sew things and talk about their dresses. Things that Robb had no interest in, if anyone had to come and live with them, couldn't it be someone who could keep up with him and Jon? Even Theon Greyjoy was a suitable substitute for the boring princess and he was no prized pig.

But no, neither his mother nor his father would hear any objections from Robb, or any of the boys. The Princess was coming and that was final. Robb had to even be told her name a couple of hundred times because he had never bothered to remember it, or at least, he hadn't wanted to. All he knew was that the Princess' father had gone to war with the Targaryens and won, and that she was a Baratheon. The prior sounded brilliant to Robb, a real life warrior, but the latter? Who cared what great Noble House the girl came from if she couldn't even play games with the boys. They would have to be gentle, Robb was warned, and treat the Princess like they did Sansa or even little Bran. Arya didn't count; she was the roughest of them all.

Sansa had been the most excited of the Stark children to hear that a real life princess would be staying with them. She asked so many questions Robb was sure she was going to burst. Robb had learned a lot about the Princess from Sansa's questions, everything but her name.

The Princess, the children had been informed by their parents, was reported to be very pretty for her age (she was nine, a year younger than Robb) and she was reported to be very sweet. She liked reading and horse-riding. Robb had only remembered these things because Sansa had thought they were strange things for a Princess to like. Robb thought so too, horse-riding could be rough if you weren't careful. But Robb reckoned she rode side-saddle like a few of the ladies he had seen riding, and supposed it wasn't as rough if you rode a horse with both legs on the same side of the beast. Ned Stark, Robb's father, had always said that the girl was said to look "more Baratheon than any of her siblings." Robb didn't quite know what that meant, he knew that he, Sansa and Bran all favoured their Tully family, but they were still Starks, even if their hair was red and their eyes blue. But still, no matter how much their parents told them about the Princess, no matter how much her praises were sang, Robb was sure she would be as boring as any princess from Old Nan's stories.

The day the Princess was due to arrive; Winterfell seemed to descend into pure havoc. Robb had never seen so many hardened Northerners descend into panic over one little girl. Robb even saw his own mother, who was the most level-headed woman he had ever known, run around like a headless chicken ensuring that everything was perfect. Robb wanted to tell them that she was just a Princess, but the first time he had said such a thing he had been scolded. Ned Stark had lined each of his children up in order. Robb was first, then it was little Sansa and Arya, and then baby Bran. Jon and Theon had been sentenced to stand behind the Stark children by Catelyn Stark – after all, Jon was a bastard and Theon's father had rebelled against King Robert. Although Robb didn't think it was fair, his mother was right, it would simply insult the Princess to lay eyes on either of them and it would make a bad impression.

When the procession made its way into the walls of Winterfell, the Starks waited with baited breath. Robb wasn't sure what he expected when he saw the first set of knights ride in on their large and brilliant horses. But when he saw the small girl on a great black stallion, riding like any man would ride, Robb was certain that it couldn't be the princess. She wore a long, golden cloak that made her dark hair, which she wore down, look like the endless night sky. Robb stared with his mouth open wide as the procession, with banners of a black stag on a field of gold that fluttered in the Northern wind, halted. The knights dismounted first, and one, with a large stag printed on his breastplate, helped the princess down. Certainly, she could have jumped down, but even Robb thought it was a far enough jump to at least hurt her ankle.

"Wow, so Baratheon women don't have horns." Theon whispered, just loud enough for Jon and Robb to hear. But Robb wasn't paying attention to Theon, not really. He watched as the princess gathered up her skirts, he could see the black furs that bordered her cloak, and watched as she curtseyed to his father. Ned Stark smiled and bobbed his own head. Robb couldn't quite hear the exchange between the two, but he now wished he had remembered the girl's name. From his short distance from her, he could see that she was beautiful. Her knights, especially the one that had helped her off her horse, stayed close, his hand on the hilt of his sword. The Princess spoke to Ned Stark like they were old friends, like she had gone into battle with him and not her father, but Robb supposed that princesses were trained to treat people they had just met as old friends

"Princess Lyra, welcome to our home." Robb heard his mother say, as even she curtseyed for the Princess. _Lyra_ , Robb thought, _it sounds like a Northern name._ Lyra smiled at Catelyn Stark, and Robb was sure he had seen the whole world light up around her. Lyra curtseyed low for Catelyn Stark, before straightening herself.

"Lady Stark, thank you for keeping me." Lyra thanked. She was polite, Robb thought, it seemed rehearsed but she was polite enough that Robb saw his mother thank you and say something about how the pleasure was all theirs. When she came towards Robb, Robb realised that he was not prepared or rehearsed. He had expected to be bored the moment he met the Princess, but she was already proving to be kind and intriguing. When she got to Robb, she had stopped directly in front of him. She was tall, Robb thought, perhaps a few inches shorter than him, with hair like the night sky and eyes like the thundering sea. She smiled at Robb and curtseyed.

"This is my eldest son, Robb. Robb, the Princess Lyra of the House Baratheon." Robb had realised then that he had no clue how to greet a princess, nobody had ever told him – save Sansa, and he rarely listened to her boasting of fairytale princes and princesses. So Robb did the first thing that came to his mind, he bowed, took the Princess's gloved hand, and kissed the back of it.

"A pleasure, My Lady." When Robb straightened himself, he saw the bright red blue flash across the Princess's face. Her eyes were wide, and it was clear she never expected it. But Robb found she looked prettier blushing like she was in that moment. Robb held her hand still, loosely in his own, and he was shocked that the Princess didn't pull back. She seemed to be examining Robb with a queer look. And when she did pull back, she was smiling again. Robb watched as she walked to greet the rest of his siblings. Sansa was far too excited to see a real life Princess, her grin growing the more Lyra paid her attention. Even Arya seemed slightly impressed (even if she were only impressed about the Princess's great horse), and Bran seemed more focused on the Knight that accompanied the Princess.

"Perhaps Ser Edrew and you can talk about his many battles later?" Lyra offered Bran, Robb had never seen Bran light up so quickly, "of course, only if that is okay with my Knight?" It was a question for Ser Edrew, who only smiled down at his young Princess and nodded.

"I would happily share my tales with the young Stark, once I have bathed and whatnot." He added as an afterthought. Robb could hear Theon snickering in the background, but so, it seemed, did Lyra, because she turned her attention on him faster than Robb was sure his mother had ever done.

"Lord Stark, the boys behind your family, who are they?" The Princess had spoken loud enough to draw attention to Theon and Jon. Jon hadn't done anything and managed to remain stoic, but Theon had at least some dignity to look almost embarrassed. The Princess gathered her skirts and walked towards Jon and Theon, though she stopped directly in front of Theon. Ned Stark stood behind her, Robb couldn't tell if his father was embarrassed or not, but he gave Theo a weary look.

"Princess Lyra, this is my ward, Theon Greyjoy." Something flashed behind the girl's eyes that Robb couldn't quite put his finger on. But Theon only grinned wickedly, and bowed at her.

"You like it when people bow, don't you Princess?" He asked cockily as he straightened up. Lyra didn't look incredibly impressed with Theon, but then Robb saw her lips quirk as she curtseyed. She didn't say anything; she simply turned to Jon then and curtseyed.

"Then that makes you Jon Snow, a pleasure." Theon looked furious that he had been ignored, especially when it had seemed in favour for Jon Snow. Jon bowed, and Robb was sure that Lyra had smiled brightly at Theon being led away by Ned Stark to her rooms.

* * *

"I don't like her," Theon decided. He had been complaining about how the Princess Lyra had snubbed him even though almost she was seven years his junior. "She'll be pretty at least when she grows up, but I don't like her." Robb couldn't understand what Theon was saying, the Princess was very much a pretty girl, not that Robb would dare admit that to Theon. As the two walked towards the stables, Robb was sure he had caught sight of someone rather large walking in. As they neared even closer, Robb realised it had been Ser Edrew, and he wasn't alone.

The Princess Lyra walked towards the great stallion she had rode in on, and held out her hand to the beast. She was tiny in comparison to it, and even Lord Edrew looked uncomfortable to leave Lyra alone with something that looked as if it could eat her. Theon pressed his hand against Robb's chest, and placed a finger to his lips. Robb had regretted going off with Theon now as the oldest boy crept towards the back of the stalls in which the horses were kept – whatever he was up to, Robb didn't want the blame. Robb moved swiftly towards the princess, she still wore her golden cloak with black furs, but, underneath, Robb could see she had changed her dress to something greyer. The Princess was muttering gently to the horse. Robb neared closer.

"What's his name?" It was clear neither Ser Edrew nor Lyra had heard Robb enter the stable, because they both turned, startled. Ser Edrew had almost drawn his sword. He muttered something about children as he resheathed his sword. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, I just –"

"Orys," Robb looked at Lyra startled, she had gone back to patting the horse. Lyra smiled when she saw the confusion on Robb's face. "That's his name; I named him after one of my ancestors, Orys Baratheon." Orys seemed rather happy with Lyra's attention, his black eyes, however, fixed on Robb. Robb was fixed on Orys too, how could he not be? He was the biggest horse Robb had ever seen. Robb had to admit he was impressed; the Princess had ridden the great horse and was perfectly in control of it when she had entered the gates of Winterfell. Robb opened his mouth, he was going to ask the Princess if she would like to go out riding with him one day, when he saw Theon reach up behind Orys, and push the great beast hard as he yelled loudly.

Orys reared upward and Lyra staggered backwards, her eyes wide. Robb was sure he heard Lyra gasp the horse's name before Jon took a hold of her wrist and hulled her back as Ser Edrew darted forward, holding his arms out to calm Orys. Jon felt himself loose his footing and he and Lyra tumbled to the ground hard. Robb was vaguely aware of Theon laughing, but he didn't care as he turned to Lyra.

"Are you okay?" He asked, and Lyra smiled up at him, though she had gone pale as a sheet.

"I'm good, thank you." As the two stumbled to their feet, helping each other, Lyra's eyes widened. "You're forehead!" She yelped, her gloved hand reaching up to touch Robb's forehead Robb hissed at the slight pain that shot through him. "I'm so sorry, Orys – he's never done this, oh I can't apologise enough." Robb could see the tears twinkle in the Princess's eyes and he shook his head

"It isn't your fault, the hors – Orys was startled," Robb corrected himself. If he was going to win some points with Lyra, he should at least use the name of her pet. Ser Edrew looked towards them both, his grey eyes guarded.

"You should get your head seen too boy," the Knight stated, "the Princess and I can tend to Orys." Robb nodded and smiled before ducking away. He would kill Theon Greyjoy.

* * *

Lyra felt terrible, poor Robb Stark, she had only been in Winterfell a few hours and the boy had gotten hurt. She did feel terrible, especially whilst she was getting ready for her welcome feast, something Lyra hadn't fully anticipated for. Lady Stark, who had been awfully kind to her, had gathered whatever Ladies could to help Lyra get dressed, and although she had to leave her thin silk dresses behind in King's Landing didn't mean that her mother hadn't ensured all of Lyra's dresses were beautiful and of the latest fashion.

But for her welcome feast, Lyra had decided she was going to wear a dark green dress, but she had been cared to ensure her hair was done in the Northern style. She wanted to make an impression after all – not that she hadn't already done that to Robb Stark who had to get some stitches in his head. The maids in the North were a lot gentler when doing her hair than the maids in the South had been, and by the time Lyra was clothed, she was sure she looked the part of a princess, or at least she had hoped she did.

As Lyra walked down towards the Great Hall, she couldn't help but notice how different the halls of Winterfell were to those in King's Landing. The Halls were quieter, there weren't as many people prying into her life, and when people stopped to greet her or talk to her, it wasn't because she was the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, it was simply because they wanted to. As she got closer to the feast, Lyra could hear people shouting and laughing, she was even sure she could hear music coming from inside, but it wasn't any of that that truly caught her attention. It was the boy that sat outside the hall, she recognised him almost instantly, and walked towards him with a smile on her face.

"Jon Snow?" She asked, though Lyra already knew exactly who he was. Jon looked up at her confused. "It's me, Lyra." Lyra was so used to not using her title that she realised that she might have startled Jon with how formal she was. Jon only nodded his head

"I know who you are, why are you out here?" He asked, and Lyra stopped in her tracks, her cheeks flushing. She knew that she was late, but Winterfell was vaster than she thought, and she had taken a wrong turn or two on her way down.

"I'm sorry, I was a little late and lost," Lyra confessed, she met Jon's eyes. "Why are you out here?" Jon looked at her confused this time, and, if Lyra was right, he looked almost embarrassed. He stood up straight, and Lyra thought she saw a slight hint of pink in his cheeks.

"The Lady Stark thinks you would be offended if you ate with a bastard," Jon explained. Lyra couldn't quite believe what she was hearing, she had never been offended when she had broken fast, or had any other meal for that matter, with Edric. Lyra glanced around; it was only her and Jon in the hallway.

"How could I be offended if I'm talking to you?" Lyra asked, and gave Jon a bright smile before offering him her arm. "Jon Snow, I would be honoured if you accompanied me for this dinner." Jon looked at the door before looking at Lyra, a little worried.

"And what will Lady Stark say?" Jon asked Lyra thought for a moment before shrugging her shoulders and stepping closer to Jon.

"If Lady Stark cares so much about my opinion, then she will not mind you joining me for a feast. Because I want you there." That seemed enough for Jon who smiled and took Lyra's offered arm. "There, now let's go before all the food is gone."

* * *

Ned Stark wasn't sure what to make of Robert's daughter. When he had seen her, he was surprised that Robert could make something so small, but she was surely his daughter with the great horse she rode and the golden cloak she wore with pride. Lyra looked very much like a Baratheon, and when she had spoken to Ned she had the same charisma that Ned remembered Robert having. And the moment Ned spotted her walking in with Jon on her arm, and sitting herself between both Robb and Jon – directly across from Theon, Ned couldn't help but see Robert in her. Even though Lyra was much prettier.

"It's almost like the stories are true," Ned heard his wife whisper beside him; "it is like Robert carved that girl from the stones of Storm End himself." Ned couldn't disagree, especially when he saw Lyra look up at him and smile from where she sat before delving back into a conversation about something with Sansa, who sat beside Theon and seemed happy with the female company. Ned was going to agree with Catelyn when he saw Lyra stop, the smile falling from her face.

"You scared Orys?!" Lyra's voice echoed off the halls and all faces once again turned towards Theon Greyjoy. Ned was sure that the boy would be the death of him when he saw the Princess stand. "How could you? Orys is such a gentle creature; you had no right scaring him! Not to mention Robb got hurt!" Lyra gestured to Robb before shaking her head wildly. "You know, it looks like what my father said about the Greyjoys is true!" Lyra shouted. Ned stood then, he could see the argument escalating even further, and knew that Lyra or Theon would say something they would regret.

"And what's that?" Theon leered. He was a lot taller than Lyra, towering above her, but Lyra caught sight of Ned Stark and Ned saw something change in those storming blue eyes. She met Theon in the eyes and pushed him back, hard.

"I wouldn't dare say such vile things in front of our hosts." Lyra sneered, turning heel and storming out of the room. Ned had to refrain from saying something, but Catelyn didn't seem to bother as she stood up.

"Theon, how dare you insult the Princess!" Catelyn scolded, but Ned found himself staring after the door. The girl was most certainly Robert's, there was no denying that. Ned sat down and shok his head tiredly.

"What in Seven Hell's have I unleashed onto Winterfell." He grumbled, turning to his wife.

* * *

Lyra wasn't sure why she had stormed towards the stables; she had no cloak on and the harsh wind nipped at her bare cheeks. But she didn't care, rage filled her. She hated the Greyjoy boy, completely hated him. He was rude, arrogant and a narcissist. Lyra reached the stall where Orys was, and opened the door before climbing into the hay bale beside him. Orys was laying with a blanket around him, and Lyra found herself inching closer to him She wasn't going to stay out all night with him, she was sure about that – but other than Ser Edrew, Orys was the only living thing she had that reminded her of home.

 _Ours is the Fury, Ours is the Fury, Ours is the Fury…_

Lyra repeated the words over and over again, trying to blank Theon Greyjoy from her mind. Her father had bested his father once and Lyra was not willing to lose to him. She wasn't going to be pushed down by a Greyjoy; if she was would she really be Robert Baratheon's daughter. She heard Orys gave a sigh towards her and she patted his side gentle.

"That's right Orys, I am Lyra Baratheon, daughter of King Robert Baratheon, first of his name and I am the descendant of Argella, the Last Storm Queen. I am strong and I will survive the North." Lyra assured, but she wasn't sure who she was assuring, herself or Orys.

* * *

 _Five years later_

Five years had passed since Lyra had first set foot in Winterfell, and she was sure she had gotten the hang of the North. She had grown up there, and where she had been treated as the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, she was now only seen as Lyra, Ward of Lord Eddard Stark – and she loved the freedom. She had remembered what her Uncle Tyrion had said all those years ago about prying eyes, and he had been right, Lyra felt so liberated.

She rode Orys every day, and the feeling of the North winds whipping through her hair as she galloped made her feel like she could be free of everything – she had gotten used t the cold temperatures and the harsh Northerners who were actually rather sweet. Lyra had gone out with Jon, Robb and Theon, though she had lost them as she rode Orys up a large hill, holding the reins tight as she leant forward. She could feel Orys pick up more speed, and once she halted him at the top of the hill, she saw the boys behind her, all three of them galloping up to meet her. She grinned at them wildly as they each reached her. Robb was the first to catch up with her, he grinned back at her, and for a moment they just sat on their horses, breathing hard as the Northern air filled them.

Robb had gotten handsome in the last five years, his hair had gotten slightly longer and curled at the bottom, his shoulders had broadened, his jaw became more chiselled and he had began to grow a beard. North men seemed to mature physically faster than the men in the South – not that Lyra was exactly complaining. Robb brought his horse closer to Lyra's, and suddenly, they were close enough to touch. But they always were, if Lyra ever needed Robb, all she had to do was reach out her hand and he would be there.

"Not bad, for a Princess," Lyra heard Jon shout as he reached them, Theon only a little bit behind them. "I always wondered where you learned to ride like that?" Jon asked. He had grown too, and although he had all the looks of a Stark, he was a different kind of beauty to Robb. Jon was shorter and broader, his hair was as dark as her own and his grey eyes flashed with some kind of defiance. Lyra smiled and patted Orys.

"My father taught me, he said everyone ought to learn how to ride a horse." Lyra said it proudly, but speaking about her father hurt, she hadn't seen Robert Baratheon in five years, and she was certain she wouldn't see him again. He wrote on occasion, and even sent her birthday gifts. But he never came to visit, nor did her mother and it hurt Lyra to no end. "I'll race you all down?" Lyra asked, tightening her reins. She didn't wait for a response before she urged Orys forward, hurtling down the hill at full pelt. She hadn't thought of her parents in so long, and she could feel the sharp sting of tears in her eyes as Orys pushed forward, she could see Winterfell in the distance, only a short ride on Orys – and continued forward. She could hear the boys shout after her, but Lyra wasn't going to give up, as she burled forward.

Robb watched as Lyra charged towards Winterfell and he cursed, she could be so impulsive, and he had let himself get caught up in her beauty. Robb urged his own horse to charge forward after Lyra, Jon and Theon not far behind him.

"Someone needs to control that Baratheon bitch." Robb heard Theon growl, and he wanted to snap at Theon, but decided against it. Robb urged his horse forward; he was going to catch up with Lyra if it was the last thing h would do. When he finally did catch up with Lyra, they were already in Winterfell. Men cursed as the Princess raced past them and towards the stables. Robb swore that Orys was still galloping when Lyra through herself off of him and onto a pile of hair – straw fell up around her but Lyra didn't seem to care, she just lay there for a second, Orys shifted around, though he didn't completely leave her side. Robb slowed his own horse before dismounting. He walked towards Lyra before sitting down in the hay beside her. They were silent for a moment, and Robb found himself simply staring at Lyra. She had grown taller since they were children, and her body was beginning to fill out. Her face was all fine angles and her long black hair tumbled down around her in curls. She had become more than pretty, Robb thought as he moved a stray curl from her face. Lyra's eyes, which had been closed, snapped open and Robb found himself drowning in eyes the colour of a stormy sea.

"You got pretty, Stark." Lyra breathed, her chest was rising and falling and Robb couldn't help but wonder if it was from the fall or the ride – either way, he tried not to stare at her breasts as she breathed heavily. Robb smiled down at Lyra, and leaned against his arms.

"You don't look half bad yourself, Baratheon." Robb joked. Lyra pushed him slightly and gave a sigh. "Hey, what's wrong?" Robb asked, he was only joking, but there was a thin layer of tears in Lyra's eyes that threatened to fall. Lyra opened her mouth to answer, but then she heard the galloping of the horses that belonged to Theon and Jon and she bolted up right. Quickly she scrambled up to her feet and pulled Robb after her.

"Follow me," She ordered and Robb knew he could never say no to her as Lyra took a tight hold of his hand and drew him around the back of the stables and through a secret passage way. It was a tight squeeze, Robb realised, and when Lyra pushed the door behind her shut, he realised that they were chest to chest. He could feel the thick fabric of Lyra's skirts brush against his legs, and he tried to even his breathing.

"What are you doing?" He asked her, his voice barely a whisper. He wasn't sure when he first noticed Lyra as more than a girl he just wanted to hold hands with, but when he had woken up in the middle of the night, panting her name, he knew that he shouldn't be so close to the Princess. Not when she was only being fostered by his father. He felt Lyra shift slightly.

"We never have time to ourselves, it's always Jon or Theon or Sansa, I don't mind Jon or the younger children, but sometimes I just want it to be us." Lyra whispered, she was just as quiet as him, and Robb didn't know why, unless she didn't want caught.

Robb was almost too afraid to ask, but he brought himself to do it anyway. "Why do you want us to have time to ourselves?" Lyra had got closer to him now, and Robb was instantly thankful for the wall behind him as he felt Lyra wrap her arms around his broad shoulders.

"So I can do this," she whispered, her lips brushing against his. Lyra's lips were both cold and soft, just like snowfall. Her kiss was gentle, far gentler than Robb had ever had. He had kissed girls before, but each kiss had been as desperate as first, all except his first – where he was as gentle as Lyra was being in that moment. But kissing Lyra _was_ different to kissing anyone else, she wasn't a kitchen maid or anything like that, she was a princess and she had kissed him first. Robb didn't quite want it to end, but when it did, and Lyra pulled back, Robb placed his hands on her waist. He was confused, he would happily admit to that. Lyra smiled up at him, a glint in her eyes. "How was that?" She asked, still impossibly close to him. Robb had to think before he could speak, trying to force himself to sound like a man.

"It was…alright," Robb said, trying to keep his composer. He saw Lyra pout, his eyes focused on her lips before she shrugged. Her arms were still around his shoulders and Robb thought if he just leaned a little closer, he could kiss those pouting lips again. But then he saw the bright smile that spread across her face, and he knew that he had missed his chance.

"Only alright? I suppose that isn't too bad for my first kiss." Robb was completely dumbfounded. He had been the Princess's first kiss? But that couldn't be? Surely she had kissed somebody else in her fourteen years? But something told Robb that she wasn't lying, and he felt his heart stop for just a second. He had been _her_ first kiss, and for a second Robb knew if he ever met King Robert, he'd be dead.

* * *

Robert Baratheon sighed as he flicked through the papers on his desk. They were marriage offers, one too many if you asked him, for his daughter's hand. Robert had read them all, and nobody seemed to leap out at him, none in particular that was. Each Noble House seemed to offer the same thing, and Robert knew he could get most of it from fear – after all, look what had happened to the Greyjoys. Finally though, he relented and called upon Cersei.

Cersei may have been many things to Robert, things that he would happily call her at that, but he knew that one thing they could agree on was that Lyra should marry the best in the realm. Cersei entered Robert's chambers and regarded him with a look that kill the strongest of men. Robert smiled back at her, if their children were one thing they could settle things for; their hatred for each other was another. Cersei walked towards the seat facing Robert and sat down. She was as graceful as the day they had married, and Robert had to admit, she was still rather beautiful. Their youngest daughter was becoming as beautiful as their mother, Robert wondered if Lyra was the same. Cersei glanced down at the papers that sat between her and Robert.

"What are these for?" She asked, there was a slight spike of panic in her voice, but Robert couldn't quite understand why. He pushed the papers towards Cersei and leaned back, he didn't want to be too close to her if he could help it. His wife or no, she was a wicked woman. Cersei picked up the papers hesitantly and read through them.

"Marriage offers," Robert grunted, "for Lyra." He specified when Cersei glanced up at him. She shuffled through each sheet carefully before placing them back down on the table, her brows raised.

"The Tyrell's have offered again, with the excuse that Lyra is old enough now for you to consider their eldest son, not just their youngest." Cersei commented. Robert owed a great deal of money to the Tyrell's, if the bargained it right, then they might be able to clear some of their debt using Lyra. She pushed the sheet of paper with the Tyrell coat of arms to the side, and picked up another. "House Frey?" Cersei clicked her tongue and shook her head, pushing the offer away from her to the other side of the table. She did this back and forth, Robert watched amazed until all the papers had been separated into piles. Cersei then looked up at him, slightly surprised. "None from House Stark?" She sounded almost insulted, but Robert only shook his head. Ned Stark had given him updates on his daughter; how she had grown, how she was beautiful and intelligent and got on with all of his children, how she even put half the Northmen to shame with how well she rode her horse, how she was every bit Robert. But there was no mention of marriage, to any of his sons.

"Ned thinks Lyra is too young to be looking for marriage, and he won't push the matter." Robert said, he resented Ned's reasoning, but perhaps he was right. Lyra was young, and maybe too young for marriage, but still. Robert read through everything, maybe he would fine something just right for Lyra. He saw Cersei smile at the idea that Lyra might not have to stay in the North forever, but Robert hoped that Ned would see sense. After all, wasn't his eldest son ages with Lyra?

* * *

Robb had rushed to Jon and Theon after Lyra had kissed him. He shouldn't be excited, but he had to tell _someone_. He'd found Jon easily enough, he was in the armoury like he usually was; it was where he went to stay out of the way from everyone else. Robb sat beside Jon and flashed a huge grin.

"Guess what?" Robb said, but when Jon looked at him with his big brown eyes, Robb instantly felt guilty for what he was about to tell him. What if Lyra didn't want Jon to know? But Robb couldn't hide it from his brother; they had talked about it before, after all. They had both wondered what it would be to kiss Lyra, it had been innocent thoughts, even when Theon voiced what he wanted to do, which wasn't too innocent at all. But Robb was sure Lyra would gut him like a fish if Theon ever came near her. "I kissed Lyra," Robb admitted as quickly as he debated not admitting it.

"What?" Jon whispered, and Robb swore he saw hurt cross his eyes. "You, wait, did you really kiss her?" Jon asked and Robb felt his cheeks redden. When he thought back to the kiss, he hadn't really kissed at all, Lyra had. She had kissed him, and she was shy and gentle and everything a girl was supposed to be. It was like meeting a completely different Lyra, usually she was boisterous and tough, yet everything a princess ought to be. Robb only nodded his head. "How was it?" Jon asked, he was hesitant, like he had been musing to himself. Robb could only grin then.

"It was cold, but so soft. It was strange," Robb finally said. Jon blinked, and then nodded his head as if in understanding. "Well, she is a princess; I don't think I should have kissed her." Robb confessed.

"You kissed Lyra and didn't turn into a prince? I suppose she isn't really a princess at all." The voice of Theon cut through Robb like ice, and he and Jon turned to see Theon standing behind them, a large grin on his face. "Well, she is pretty so I suppose I can't blame you. Did you fuck her too? I hear all Southern girls like it right in the –" Before Theon could finish, Jon had punched him. Robb had been ready too, but it was clear that Jon had beaten Robb to the punch, literally.

"Don't speak about her like that, she deserves your respect!" Jon hissed, Theon held his cheek, but it had done little to remove the grin from his face. Theon was still taller than Jon and Robb, and he straightened himself to his full height.

"You'll regret that, Snow." Theon raised his fist and Robb stepped forward to defend his brother, after all, he had started the conversation about Lyra from the beginning, and really, if Jon hadn't punched Theon, Robb would have. But Theon didn't move, not an inch. Nobody had seen her enter, but directly behind Theon was Lyra, Ser Edrew standing in the doorway. His sword had been taken from his sheath and Lyra held it tight in his hands.

"Why did you stop, Theon? Why don't you tell me where Southern girls like it?" Lyra's voice had been as cold as her kiss, and when Robb looked back at Ser Edrew, he swore there was some pride in his kind eyes.

* * *

Once the scene in the armoury had been over with, Ser Edrew had to reclaim his sword from Lyra before she had run Theon through; she was left alone with Jon. His knuckles were red and showed signs of bruising, but no matter what Lyra said, he refused to go and get it seen too. Finally, after much persuasion, he let her fuss over him. His hands were large compared to her own, and he didn't complain as Lyra looked over them.

"You shouldn't have punched Theon; he is much bigger than you." Lyra chastised, looking up at Jon through her eyelashes. Jon gave Lyra a crooked grin and winced as she shifted his hand slightly.

"Says the girl that pulled a sword on him." Jon pointed out, and Lyra smiled back, and shook her head.

"Only because he would have beaten you to a pulp, what were you thinking?" Lyra asked, realising how harsh she must have sounded. But Jon only shrugged his shoulders, Lyra hated how stubborn all of Ned Stark's children were proving to be, even more so because Lyra was just as stubborn.

"He insulted you, and Robb and I could have taken him. I mean," Jon added when Lyra looked at him. "Theon might have won but we would have given it a go." Jon cemented, and Lyra laughed then, shaking her head. She thought her laugh sounded like her father's, loud and hearty. Jon was silent again, watching Lyra inspect his hand. "Did you really kiss Robb?" He finally asked, Lyra's head shot up then and she realised how close she and Jon were. She nodded.

"I did, why?" Lyra asked, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. "Jealous?" Jon didn't want to admit it, especially to Lyra, but he was. But he knew that he wasn't good enough for Lyra, she was a princess and he was a bastard. Bastards didn't get the princess. So he shook his head and withdrew his hand.

"Of course not," Jon lied, Jon hated lying. "Just be careful, I don't want to have to punch anybody again." Jon showed Lyra her hand and she smiled before standing. Lyra hesitated for a moment before bending down and kissing Jon on the forehead.

"Thank you for defending my honour, Jon. But you don't have to worry about punching people; I'm perfectly capable of that." Lyra promised before disappearing. Jon watched her recede before touching his forehead. Robb was right, her kiss was cold.

 _ **(A/N: So this chapter is slightly shorter than the previous, but I hoped you still enjoyed it! Please feel free to review and tell me what you thought. Thank you for reading, and I promise to update soon!)**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**(A/N: Hey again! I'm sorry for the late updates but I've started back at work again. But I promise I'll update as often as I can! I didn't expect so many mixed reviews about the whole Robb/Lyra or Jon/Lyra pairings, but like I said, I'm not giving anything away in the Author Notes. But here is chapter 3! Thank you so much for all the follows, favourites and reviews - They've all made me smile! Please enjoy this chapter, and always, please review and let me know what you think!)**_

Lyra sat on a stool just in front of Sansa Stark; she had allowed the younger girl to style her hair for the day, something that Sansa was all too excited for. Her blue eyes had lit up with both joy and excitement – how could she not be excited when she was getting to help style a princess for Robb's name day feast. Sansa spoke in length about how she had always wanted a sister that she could talk pretty dresses with and talk about princess-y things, things Lyra didn't really count as princess-y things. Sansa told Lyra about her dreams of marrying a Southern Lord – or even a prince, and how Lyra was so lucky to be the daughter of a king. Everybody would be looking for her hand in marriage.

Lyra doubted that that was the case. At the age of fifteen, she was tall for her age, but where her mother was delicate, Lyra's shoulders were broader and her body curved far more than her mother's did. Lyra's features were sharp as well, not beautiful or delicate the way a princess's ought to be. No, she wasn't exactly what a man would dream for his wife. But she smiled as Sansa spoke; she was what Lyra thought a Princess should look like.

Sansa was tall, just like Lyra was tall, but her fine features were almost striking with hair like fire and eyes bluer than the sky. She would make a beautiful bride and a good wife to anyone that was lucky enough to marry her. Sansa had excelled in the womanly arts, and put even Lyra to shame. Still, Lyra couldn't help but wonder if Myrcella was like Sansa or like her mother. Sansa finally stepped back and smiled down at her work. If Lyra had ever been a Queen, she would appoint Sansa as one of her Ladies', and she'd find her a good husband.

"All done!" Sansa clapped her hands together, "do you know what you'll be wearing tonight?" Sansa asked, quirking her brows. She always inquired what Lyra would wear if the Starks had anything to celebrate, or any Northern Lords visiting. In truth, Lyra hadn't thought that far ahead. She had forgotten the feast until Sansa had asked to do her hair for her. Sansa pouted when Lyra shook her head. "Can I help you?" She asked, sounding hopeful. Playing dress up was something else Sansa loved. In the years she had stayed with the Starks, Lyra had helped Sansa either design dresses, played as her model or let Sansa borrow or take dresses that she liked. Many, Lyra had out grown or, if her mother had sent them up, didn't fit her to begin with. Lyra smiled, Sansa loved the chance to look through Lyra's wardrobe, and Lyra never needed to ask twice.

"If you want to," Lyra allowed, and Sansa gave a small leap of joy before rushing over to Lyra's wardrobe and small chest, going through the dresses that Lyra had kept throughout the years. Sansa went through all the colours before pulling out one that had been spun with golden thread. She held it up to Lyra.

"What about this one?" Sansa asked. Lyra inspected it, it had been a gift from Jon Arryn for her fourteenth name day, Lyra wondered how much input Jon Arryn had in the making of the dress, and how much he had made it to upset Lyra's mother. That was how most of Lyra's wardrobe seemed to be – a weapon for her parents to proclaim her loyalties to their Houses. Lyra smiled, her mother wouldn't have to know she had worn the dress made for her by Lord Arryn after all, and she nodded her head. "Good, it will go excellent with your hair," Sansa nodded, laying the dress down on the bed before turning to look at the other dresses longingly. Although Sansa made her own dresses, she did enjoy looking through Lyra's for inspiration.

"Would you like to borrow one for tonight?" Lyra asked, walking towards Sansa. Sansa's face lit up as she turned to face Lyra. She always looked so hopeful and innocent, Lyra thought. "Well, if you see any that you like of course, if not, you don't have to." Sansa only beamed at Lyra.

"Are you sure?" Sansa asked, and when Lyra nodded her head, Sansa was back looking through the wardrobe before finding a dress that was made of a light blue fabric. She held it up to herself and looked at Lyra. "What do you think?" Sansa asked, looking down at herself before looking up at Lyra for approval. Lyra hummed, before she nodded her head.

"I think we should try it on, don't you?" Lyra said, still smiling. It wasn't the first time she and Sansa had helped each other get dressed, although Sansa insisted that a princess shouldn't be helping her into dresses, but Lyra disagreed. She wouldn't be a princess forever, after all. Sansa had chosen fantastically, the blue brought out her Tully features brilliantly, the long sleeves, which were trimmed with white fur, hung just right on Sansa. Sansa gazed at herself in the mirror before turning to Lyra, her mouth agape.

"I look like an actual princess," Sansa whispered, touching the sleeves lightly with her fingers. Lyra laughed as she opened her jewellery box. Sansa had helped Lyra dress already, and the gold dress hugged at her waist, showing more and more the woman that Lyra was becoming. Lyra lifted up a necklace and motioned for Sansa to turn around. Sansa did as she was told and turned so that Lyra could clasp the silver pendant around her throat. Sansa touched it, her cheeks flushing scarlet. "I can't borrow this too, Lyra, it's far too much." Sansa protested, but Lyra only waved her hand as she slipped on a collar shaped like two golden antlers.

"Our Houses are friends and so are we, besides, it suits you wonderfully." Lyra told Sansa. The two looked at themselves in the mirror, Lyra couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to dress Myrcella in her clothes, or let her little sister do her hair. She imagined it wouldn't be much different with her than it was with Sansa. Sansa sat down on Lyra's bed and looked up at Lyra.

"It's a shame that only Northerners will see me like this," Sansa pouted me, "I bet if a Southern Lord would see me like this they would be besotted." Lyra smiled down at Sansa. Lyra had adopted the North as her home, she had fallen quite truly in love with the place, but Sansa had dreams of the South and there was no shaking them. Before Lyra could reply there was a fainting scratching at the door, and Lyra glanced towards it. "That will be Lady," Sansa guessed standing up and walking to the door. Just as she had guessed, the beautifully groomed Direwolf padded into the room. Sansa knelt down and scratched the tiny pup behind the ear before glancing up at Lyra. Lyra had loved the Direwolves, from the moment they had come into Winterfell, whenever she went out riding with Robb or Jon, the pubs had ran to keep up, and when they got tired, they happily rode on top of the horses. Even Orys had grown used to them. Lyra knelt down and gave Lady a gentle scratch.

* * *

"You're finally a man," Theon gaffed as Robb walked shamefully out of the whorehouse. It seemed like a ridiculous present, he hadn't wanted to go – but he couldn't stand Theon's teasing much longer. He just hoped Lyra would be sick this evening, or even too busy to attend the feast, he didn't think he could look her in the eye. "Don't worry, you're honour is still in tacked, the Princess won't look at you any different." Theon teased. Robb knew that Lyra wouldn't judge him for going to the whorehouse, not when Theon had goaded him into it – what Lyra wouldn't understand was that Robb had pictured her beneath him, moaning just as the whore had done.

"I'm not worried about that," Robb muttered as they walked into the walls of Winterfell. He could see his mother in the distance, little Rickon in her arms, ushering Bran off to get ready for tonight's festivities. Robb had spotted Arya hiding from their mother and smiled, but Robb wasn't the only one to spot her. Theon stopped, and his grin broadened. He walked over to Arya, pulling Robb along with him.

"Arya?" Theon asked with a false niceness that Robb was certain Arya would see through, despite how young she was. Arya turned, her eyes wide at being caught, but when she saw that it was Robb and Theon, she seemed to calm about. "Have you seen Lyra?" Theon asked, and Robb went bright red. He hoped Arya had seen Lyra, he still couldn't face her. Arya sat upright slightly and narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Theon.

"Why?" Arya asked, her voice was defensive. Arya had liked Lyra, or at least the side of Lyra that like stories of warrior queens, rode Orys like a man would ride a horse and had an interest in things that weren't quite 'girlie'. This meant Arya knew that Lyra disliked Theon. Theon shrugged his shoulders.

"She has a book on the Iron Islands I want to borrow; I thought I should ask her." Arya thought for a moment before nodding her head. But the idea of Theon wanting to borrow a book from Lyra was so far-fetched to Robb that he looked at Theon incredulously.

"You want to borrow a book?" Robb asked, and Theon only shrugged his shoulders. He turned to Robb and looked at him seriously.

"I'm going to rule the Iron Islands one day, I should at least know more on the history of my people." He then turned back to Arya. "Can you take us to Lyra? She's more likely to want to see you than me." Theon pointed out. Arya seemed to think before nodding her head and stood up. She looked around the grounds to see if she could spot their mother before rushing towards the castle, Theon striding behind her and Robb hoping he'd lose them both.

Arya had led Robb and Theon to Lyra's chambers. The door was closed firmly shut and he could hear gentle chatter from inside. Arya lifted her hand and knocked on the door. The talking ceased and Robb heard shuffling. When the door opened, it was Sansa. She was dressed in fine clothes, clothes he was sure she had borrowed from Lyra. Her eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?" She asked Arya, Robb heard more shuffling in the room. Sansa opened the door fully and Robb caught sight of Lyra, knelt beside Lady. Lyra stood and Jon fell completely silent. Her long black hair has been braided, and her golden gown was trimmed with black fur. She regarded Robb with her storm-blue eyes.

"Robb? Arya? Is anything the matter?" Robb saw the glint of her golden necklace as she walked towards them. Robb glanced away from her as the memories of the afternoon drifted into his mind.

"Theon was looking to borrow a book but he disappeared." Arya explained, looking around. She was right, Theon had disappeared and Robb cursed him. Lyra glanced around, her brows raised.

"Of course he is, well, whatever mischief he's up to I'm not in the mood for it." Lyra told the youngest Stark. "And you should get ready before your mother catches you, if you want, I could help you?" Lyra offered, Sansa wrinkled her nose at the idea of Lyra helping Arya, Arya regarded both Sansa and Lyra. Robb thought that they looked exactly like the princesses out of Sansa's books.

"I'll pass, but thanks." Arya said, looking at Lyra like she'd gone mad. "I like your necklace by the way." Arya complimented, Lyra touched the golden antlers around her neck and smiled.

"Thank you, it was a gift from my father when I was about your age. It has our words engraved on it if you want to see?" Arya nodded and Lyra knelt down so she could read the words. Arya's mouth widened slightly.

"That's really cool, Robb, come see." Arya beckoned for Robb to crouch down, but Robb couldn't quite bring himself to get so close to Lyra.

* * *

Northerners really did know how to party, and Lyra loved it. She both danced and drank with Northern Lords that had come to pay their respects to Ned Stark's son. Lyra had spoken to many of them in the past, but as she had gotten older the conversations had changed. They weren't interested in speaking about Lyra, but her marriage prospects – some even made proposals. Lyra had told many of them to send letters to her father if they were interested, but that didn't mean the slightly larger Houses allied with the Starks didn't keep pushing the matter. Lyra smiled at Lord Glover that spoke fondly of his nephew and of himself. Lyra wasn't quite sure what to say, she knew the history of most of the Northern houses, and even if she had wanted to marry either Lord Glover or his nephew, her father would never agree to it. Much to her surprise, somebody tapped Lyra on the shoulder. Lyra turned and met the brown eyes of Jon Snow. He cracked a smile at Lord Glover and Lyra.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but can I ask for this dance, Princess Lyra?" Jon gave a stiff bow, and she could see that Lord Glover was clearly insulted at the fact he had been interrupted by Jon Snow of all people. Lyra looked at Jon's open hand and gave Lord Glover a sympathetic look.

"I'm sorry, Lord Glover, but it would be rude of me to deny the offer of Ned Stark's son." Lord Glover looked down at Jon and grunted before taking Lyra's hand in his own and kissing the back of it gently, the bristles tickling the back of her hand. Lyra smiled up at the Lord as he straightened himself. "Thank you, Lord Glover, and I'm sure my Father will be happy to hear of your offer." Lord Glover gave a stiff smile.

"Thank you for your time, Lady Lyra, I hope you will save me a dance." With that, he gave a stiff bow and left Lyra in the hands of Jon Snow. When Jon took hold of Lyra's hand, and led her to the dance floor, he was gentle. His large hands were cool, and as he brought Lyra round to face him, he placed a hand gently on her waist. At first Jon danced slowly, unsure of himself, unlike the other Northmen around him.

"That sounded like an interesting conversation? Should I have taken you away from something so important?" Jon asked, and Lyra tried not to laugh as Jon turned her slowly again. They seemed to be in a world of their own, and Jon kept glancing down at Lyra, almost to ensure that she was still there. Lyra looked over at Lord Glover, who was talking to both Ned Stark and his nephew.

"Yes, it was certainly an interesting conversation – Robb seems to be in the same predicament." Both Lyra and Jon glanced over to see Robb trying to politely turn down Lord Karstark. Jon looked vaguely glad, before looking away from Robb. "What about you, Jon?" Lyra asked innocently. "Have you got your eye on any girl?" Jon froze for a moment, before he continued dancing.

"I do, but things are different for me." Lyra looked up at Jon, he was a handsome boy and even though he was a bastard, his father was Lord Eddard Stark. When Lyra didn't push, Jon lifted Lyra in the air as the other women were lifted. Lyra placed her hands on Jon's shoulders to make it easier for him to lift her. "Why did you kiss Robb?" Jon asked as he lowered Lyra down, catching her by surprise.

"Why?" Lyra asked back, thinking back to the kiss that had happened all those months ago. Nothing had really happened since Lyra and Robb had kissed, it was like Robb had been ignoring her and Lyra was certain she had done something wrong. Lyra thought about Jon's question and wondered if she looked like her Uncle Tyrion. "I kissed him because I wanted too, are you jealous?" Lyra asked, quirking a brow. They weren't far from each other, Lyra realised. Even dancing they were unusually close. She could feel Jon's breath against her face, and Lyra wondered if she had picked the wrong brother to fall in love with.

"If I said yes, what would you do?" Jon whispered, and she could see his eyes cloud over before he pulled back. "It wouldn't make a difference, Robb's good for you. He's the trueborn son of a Lord and I'm a bastard." Lyra narrowed her eyes, Jon moved them again so that she could no longer see Robb – not that she wanted to, she was solely fixed on Jon.

" I hate when people talk about blood like that, blood means nothing, it only tells you who you're related too. You've got Stark blood, I've got Baratheon. What's wrong with a bastard being with a princess? Please tell me, because House Baratheon was founded by a bastard. Do you know how my father gained the throne?" Lyra asked, and Jon looked down at her, he shook his head and his eyes were wide with surprise. Lyra chewed her bottom lip before she continued. "My great-grandmother was a Targaryn, which means that the Mad King was a cousin. Funny how blood works, isn't it?" Jon nodded his head, and Lyra took a deep breath. "I know it's a silly thing to be mad at, but the whole idea of bastards and highborn not being allowed to marry is just stupid." The song had stopped and Jon had stopped moving. He gave Lyra a warm smile.

"I'm glad you feel like that, but I'm not worried about marriage. I'm joining the Night's Watch." Lyra felt her arms go limp as Jon pulled back and smiled at someone behind them. "I assume you're cutting in?" Lyra turned stiffly to see Robb behind her.

"If you don't mind?" Robb asked, offering his hand to Lyra.

* * *

Robb had finally gotten away from Lord Karstark, and moved towards Lyra. She had been dancing with Jon, who appeared to save Lyra from the clutches of Lord Glover. Robb felt a twinge of jealousy spark in him, but shoved it down – Jon was his brother after all. Robb thought he had timed it perfectly, by the time he had reached the duo, the song had ended, and it appeared their conversation had too. Robb offered Lyra his hand, and, after a moment of hesitation, Lyra took Robb's hand and smiled up at him. The music that started was loud and cheerful, Lyra felt Robb begin to lead them. He moved with the beat of the music and it was almost like he had swept her off her feet.

As the song picked it, Robb pulled Lyra faster around the room. She felt small in his arms, though she wasn't much shorter than him, he could feel the curve of her hip under his hand and hoped that his face hadn't gone bright red. Lyra grinned up at him, and Robb felt his heart stutter slightly, as he moved the two of them round the dance floor. He even twirled Lyra so fast he was sure the two of them would stumble as he lifted her into the air, still turning in his circle. Lyra laughed loudly, her eyes shut tight and her necklace twinkling in the candle light. He could see the words now 'Ours is the Fury' carefully etched into the gold. When Robb put Lyra down, he held her hips to try and steady them both, but she fell into him slightly, still laughing.

"You're a wonderful dancer," Lyra said between gasps of laughter, Robb wasn't sure if she was joking or not but it didn't matter to him. He beamed with pride as Lyra straightened herself, a grin still on her face, and cleared her throat. "How was your conversation with Lord Karstark?" Lyra asked as Robb once again continued in his dance. Lyra was very pretty, he thought, almost beautiful. She was said to be as beautiful as her mother, Queen Cersei, but as fierce as King Robert. If either were true, Robb couldn't be sure because he had never formally met the King or Queen, he was sure that Lyra would be a force to be reckoned with.

"I'm assuming it went as well as your conversation with Lord Glover." Robb indicated, a smile spreading across his face. Lyra laughed again, and looked up at Robb through her lashes.

"Poor Lord Glover, he did make an interesting proposal." Lyra countered, watching as Lord Glover spoke with some Northern Ladies. Robb watched him too, and shook his head. He went to turn his head back to Lyra, but she was already slowly leading him away so that nobody would notice.

* * *

Ned Stark glanced up to see Robb sneaking off with Lyra. The two of them were easy to spot, as they managed to get through the crowds and out a side door. He shook his head at them both. Lyra was certainly like her father, and Ned wasn't sure where Robb was getting his wild streak from. Ned could see Catelyn watching the two too, and she seemed uncomfortable, she turned back to Ned, worried.

"Aren't you concerned about what the two of them will be up too? She's Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, Ned!" Ned listened to Catelyn, it was true, any bad decisions that Lyra made could blow back on the Starks, but they were two children being harmless.

"Leave them be Catelyn, Robb is a smart boy, and Lyra is smarter. You did hear what Lord Glover said? She won't marry anyone against Robert's permission, and her father hasn't given any inkling that he wants Lyra to marry Robb." Catelyn worried her bottom lip still, and Ned couldn't blame her. Lyra and Robb would make a handsome couple, but so much stood in the way – Robert already had the Stark's allegiance, and not even that, but Ned had to think about the future, and he didn't want his family to face what the Baratheon's had faced when Robert was put on the throne.

* * *

Lyra led Robb up to her room. The two ran down the stone hallways on Winterfell, Robb held tightly onto Lyra's hand as they climbed quickly up the stairs. Lyra took hold of her skirts so she wouldn't trip as she took the stairs two at a time. She could hardly believe she was leading Robb up to her room – but she thought about the present she had gotten for him, Lyra sped up. She could hear Robb stumbling after her, but when Lyra stopped, she had pressed her back against her chamber door.

The two were breathing hard, and Lyra tried to get her breath back as she stared up at Robb, who looked just as out of breath. Lyra was reminded of the day in the secret passage and her cheeks reddened. But Robb hadn't tried to pursue her, and Lyra was growing to accept that he wasn't interested in her. Robb's cheeks were just as red as Lyra's as she opened the door and led Robb into her chambers. Throughout her stay in Winterfell, Lyra had rarely let Robb into her room, or any boy for that matter. It wasn't proper, especially when she was alone with the boy.

Robb walked into the centre of the room, and Lyra closed the door behind them. When Lyra turned, she realised that Robb didn't look odd in her chambers; in fact, she rather liked the look of him in there. Lyra stepped forward and took hold of Robb's hands. She pulled his arms out, palms up, so that she was standing with both in arms by her side.

"Now, shut your eyes," Lyra told him, "and keep your hands held out." Robb did as he was told, and stood very still. Lyra waved her hand in front of Robb's face, and when he didn't move, Lyra ran to her bed, and pulled out the package she had wrapped in blue silk under it. Very slowly, Lyra walked towards Robb and placed the package in Robb's hands. "Robb, you can open your eyes now." Lyra whispered, afraid anybody could hear them. Robb opened his eyes, and slowly began to unwrap the silk. He then glanced up at Lyra, his eyes wide at the dagger. "Happy name-day," Lyra wished, smiling brightly.

"You brought me up here to give me a present?" Robb sounded slightly disappointed, and Lyra felt her face fall.

"I didn't want you to be accused as the Princess' favourite, besides, if you don't like it I can always have it remade." Lyra added, but Robb had already sheathed and unsheathed the dagger, he was beginning to look impressed. His blue eyes then flicked up to meet Lyra.

"Am I not your favourite?" He asked, placing down the dagger and taking a step towards Lyra. Lyra flushed then, turning her head away from Robb as he closed the gap between himself and Lyra. Robb tilted Lyra's chin so that she was facing him again. "Because you're certainly my favourite." Lyra couldn't help but give out a laugh.

"That's an awful line, Stark." Lyra informed him, but it had made her feel a lot more comfortable than she had previously done. Robb cracked his own grin, growing even closer.

"But you loved it, Baratheon." Robb whispered, before capturing Lyra's lips with his own.

When Robb kissed Lyra, he wasn't as hesitant as Lyra had been when she had kissed him. His was firey and warm and had every shred of confidence that Lyra felt like she had lacked the first time she had kissed Robb. He encircled her waist, and pulled her closer to him, and Lyra moved her hands up to entangle her hands in Robb's hair. He smelt of burning wood, and his lips were warm. Lyra felt Robb push her back, so she was against the wall, Robb's chest against her own. They gazed at each other for a moment before Robb let out a breath and pressed his forehead against hers.

"I shouldn't have done that," Robb whispered, his eyes fluttering shut. Lyra placed a hand against his cheek and another on his chest. She didn't know why he had stopped and she missed the feeling of his lips on hers.

"Why shouldn't you have?" Lyra asked softly, she was so close to him. Robb's eyes opened and he looked directly at her.

"Because, you're a Princess, and we're not getting married. I can't have you." Robb whispered, "I'm teasing myself just doing this." He told Lyra. Lyra was beginning to hate people telling her who could and couldn't have her. In fact, Lyra didn't see anything wrong with Robb had done. Lyra pulled Robb closer to her, and smiled softly.

"Why do people keep telling me that?" She whispered, "And Robb, it isn't just you that's being teased." Lyra crashed her lips against Robb's. She felt Robb stiffen slightly, but then felt him relax again, kissing her hard, his hands gripping at Lyra's waist tightly.

* * *

 _A few months later_

Ned felt terrible, the news that Jon Arryn had passed hurt him in a way he couldn't think possible, but now he had been tasked with telling Lyra the news. Ned had found Lyra in the library, reading away. Through her years at Winterfell, she had made her way through every history book the Starks had collected, and had impressed many with her knowledge of the North and her respect for the traditions that the people held so dear. As Ned neared Lyra, her head shot up and Ned found he was looking directly into Robert's eyes.

"Lord Stark?" Lyra asked, Ned stopped in his traps, and Lyra furrowed her brows. "Lord Stark, what's the matter?" Ned thought he had hid his emotions well, but when he watched Lyra place down her book, he realised that he probably hadn't.

"Lyra, please, stay seated." Ned warned as he saw the girl stand. "I have some hard news to give you, and I need you to understand it might be shocking." Lyra nodded and stayed in her seat, but the look of worry didn't leave her face.

"It isn't my father, is it? He is okay?" Ned took the seat opposite Lyra and nodded his head. She was a child-woman, and reminded Ned of Lyanna in a way. She was too kind and too strong, and Ned knew it was never the safest of mixes. Ned held out his hand, and Lyra placed her small hand in Ned's own.

"Lyra, Jon Arryn…Jon is dead." Ned said the words before he couldn't, and he saw her face change completely. Her eyes went blank, and Ned worried she would faint, but instead, he saw the tears begin to leak from her eyes. She was crying, but Ned could see she was trying to hold it back – the North had surely made its impression on her. "Lyra, I am sorry for your lost." Lyra looked at Ned and shook her head.

"He was like a grandfather to me, Lord Stark, thank you for telling me." Lyra spoke softly, and Ned was sure he could hear a sob behind her words. "But, Lord Arryn was like a father to you, as he was to my father. My condolences, Lord Stark." Lyra removed her hand from Ned's and stood up straight. "Please excuse me, Lord Stark, I must write to my father." Ned nodded and stood too.

"Your father has already written ahead and he will be coming to Winterfell, with your mother and siblings." Ned explained, Lyra nodded and straightened her skirts.

"I shall write anyway, he must be heartbroken." Lyra took a step forward, and Ned saw her stumble. He caught her just in time and Lyra covered her mouth with her hands. "I am so sorry, Lord Stark." Lyra gasped out as Ned lowered her to the floor as he sunk to his knees. He simply hugged her, there wasn't much more he could do, as he hugged Lyra tight. He had hated breaking the young girls heart.

 _ **(A/N: That's it for chapter 3 everybody! Thank you for reading, and continuing to read. I'm sorry this chapter is so short, but I promise the rest will be longer. I'm grateful for all the wonderful reviews. Thank you again, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!)**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**(A/N: Hey guys, I'm so sorry for another late update, work has been hectic! But I'm so happy for the reviews the last few chapters have gotten, and I'm so glad people are liking this! So here is chapter 4, fresh off the press! This chapter jumps right into the main story line of the series [or one of the main storylines? Or maybe many?]. But yes, Robert is back! I really hope you all enjoy this chapter, and please review! I love reading all of your thoughts!)**_

Jon Arryn was dead. It was such a simple concept, and yet, Lyra couldn't find the words to express the pain she had felt, or really mustered the courage to leave her chambers. Despite her nine years with him, and the other six in correspondence, Jon Arryn had become a friend, confidant and grandfather figure for Lyra. How could he possibly be dead? But then, everyone surely died. Even Jon Arryn wasn't immortal.

Lyra rolled onto her side and hugged one of her pillows tight as she squeezed her eyes shut. She felt so sorry for both her father and Ned Stark, neither could lock themselves in their chambers as she did and cry. No, they both had duties to attend, and most shockingly, her father would be in Winterfell shortly. Lyra could hear all the hustling and bustling that went on outside, Lady Catelyn Stark had a voice that could be heard from miles around if she really tried. But nobody had even tried to bother Lyra. It was almost as though if they left her to grieve, she would miraculously be okay for the royal arrival. But even Lyra knew that was an impossible assumption.

With a sigh, Lyra slipped from her bed, and pushed her pillow back onto the thick, fur spread. If her father could make the effort to travel to Winterfell directly after the death of Jon Arryn, Lyra could at least make the effort to get dressed for her father. Lyra shrugged on a thick robe, and, thankful for the warm floors of castle, padded in silk slippers to her door. She edged it open just slightly and peaked inside. Lyra had a full view of Ser Edrew, who sat slumped on the floor. Not much harm would come to her in Winterfell, and yet Ser Edrew guarded her day and night – very few Winterfell guards were given the chance, and even when they were, Ser Edrew sat on the floor wearily beside them.

"Ser?" Lyra asked, startling Edrew slightly. He stumbled to his feet and tipped himself in a clumsy bow. Lyra smiled at her knight, he was certainly a handsome man, with eyes as bright as grass and a wonky smile that made him look far younger than his years. He had been Edrew Flowers before he had fought with Robert Baratheon against the Mad King. He had been at the Battle of the Trident and fought so valiantly for her father that he was knighted. Lyra had never asked what had caused Edrew to join her father's cause, and Edrew rarely spoke about it. "I was wondering if I could have someone come and get me dressed." Lyra questioned Ser Edrew, who only nodded. He then turned to Winterfell guard that Lyra hadn't quite noticed, and fixed a stern look on her face.

"Could you please fetch Princess Lyra's maids?" The guard pulled a face, one that said he didn't like Edrew giving him orders, before giving Lyra a swift bow and wondering down the corridor. The Winterfell man had given Lyra a queer look, and she wondered if she really looked that terrible. Of course, she had rarely emerged from her room long enough for anyone to see her in a few weeks. "How are you feeling, Milady?" Edrew asked, before shaking his head. "Of course, that's not a question you want to be asked." Lyra felt pity for the knight. He knew her well enough to speak frankly to her, but he rarely did, and he would always take back his words if he did.

"Ser Edrew, would you like to come in for something to drink? It might not be much but I haven't had any food sent up, and it is only some water." Lyra offered. The knight smiled, before looking around and nodding his head.

"I would be grateful, Your Highness." Lyra opened the door and allowed Ser Edrew to come in before closing it. Other than her ladies, the only person that had been in her room in weeks had been Robb, and that had been on his Name Day. Lyra flushed at the memory and shook her head. She would not think of such things! Lyra walked over to a small table and poured two goblets of water, handing one to Ser Edrew.

"My father shall be here soon," Lyra said offhandedly. Ser Edrew had been her only connection to her life in King's Landing, and she often mused around him. "I wonder if he has changed much, or if my mother has become kinder?" Lyra sighed and sipped her water. "And as for Joffery," she only shook her head. She didn't want to see her brother again, and it was clear Ser Edrew felt the same way. Joffery had been cruel to everyone he met, and that had included Ser Edrew. Lyra had heard that Sansa had been more than excited to see the Crowned Prince, even if Lyra had kept herself in her room, words spread like fire in a castle such as Winterfell.

"Whether they have changed or not, I am sure the King and Queen will be excited to see you, and will be proud of the young lady you have become." Ser Edrew assured, and Lyra smiled. Perhaps he was right, but Lyra knew that the visit from her parents didn't come without strings – she was just unsure what those strings were.

"Ser Edrew? If my father has come with news of a betrothal, would you come and join my household?" The question seemed to catch Ser Edrew off guard, but Lyra couldn't help but ask. She trusted Edrew Flowers with her life, no matter how bizarre it might have sounded. Ser Edrew took a swig of his water before placing the goblet down.

"My Lady, I have stayed in the North with you for six years, and I have been by your side since you were an infant. If you were to marry today, I would go with you. You need only ask me." Ser Edrew swore, and Lyra believed him. She placed a small hand on his armoured arm and smiled up at him.

"I thought I should ask, Ser Edrew. I could not bear to be parted with my oldest friend." The knight smiled then, and covered Lyra's hand with his own before dropping to one knee.

"And you won't, for I am your sworn sword, forever and always." The door knocked and Ser Edrew slowly drew to his feet. "I suppose it is time I take my leave, you must get ready." Lyra nodded, and walked slowly to her door. Opening her door so her knight could leave. Lyra wished she could have talked to Ser Edrew more; she _wanted_ to talk to someone who had known her all the years that he had. Even if it were for her own comfort.

* * *

Robb had been squeezed between his mother and Sansa. The Stark children had been lined up in a neat little line – just as they had been when Lyra had joined them all those years ago. Robb could hear Theon complain as he had been shoved behind the Stark children, along with Jon. But no matter how hard Robb looked, he couldn't spy Lyra. He hadn't seen her in weeks, but he had assumed that she would at least show for the welcoming of her family to Winterfell. Just as Robb was about to lose hope that Lyra would come, he caught sight of her emerging from the castle, Ser Edrew by her side. She looked the part of a royal princess, Robb thought, she like she had done when she first arrived at Winterfell. She wore a dress of sky blue, which showed only slightly under her thick white cloak lined with fur. Lyra looked completely northern to Robb – even more so than she normally did. Lyra joined the line of Starks, and Ser Edrew, but where Robb had expected Lyra to stand beside his father she didn't. Robb saw Rickon's face light up as Lyra stood beside him, and almost instinctively, Rickon reached up to take Lyra's hand. And Lyra took it without hesitation.

Rickon had attached himself to Lyra, clinging to her whenever he could. Robb had to remind himself that three year olds had no understanding of royal titles – not that Lyra ever seemed to mind. She often carried Rickon whenever he asked, and told him stories whenever he wanted. Even his Direwolf, Shaggydog, seemed quite taken with Lyra.

A shout rang out amongst Winterfell as mighty procession of horses, knights and carriages marched through the gates of Winterfell. The royal banners of House Baratheon fluttered brightly in the cold North air. Robb, for a brief moment, was struck. Lyra had come from such a life? Robb searched Lyra's face, and he saw something cross it as the royal procession came to a halt, he wondered what it must have been. But Robb had not time to think as he saw a gigantic man slide from his horse and marched over to his Lord father. It didn't take Robb long to realise it had been the King, and like the rest of his family, Robb bowed low. Robb watched as his father and the King interacted, it was certainly a strange affair. But what was even more striking was when the King stopped in front of Robb and gave a wild grin.

"What a strapping lad, Ned!" The King's voice seemed to rig out all over Winterfell. "Almost as strong as you were when you were the lad's age!" Before Robb could thank the King, was he was sure he was to do, the King had made his way down the line. He spoke to each of the Stark children, claiming both Sansa and Arya as beautiful, and even telling Bran that he was certainly going to become a knight. Robb even witnessed the King ruffling Rickon's hair before he stopped in front of Lyra.

"Your Grace," Lyra greeted, dropping Rickon's hand and curtseying low. The King, for what felt surprisingly strange, had fallen quite silent. He motioned Lyra to straighten herself, and Lyra did. Robb had heard that Lyra had been carved from stone by Robert Baratheon – and he had thought it was a silly thing for people to think, until he saw Lyra and Robert look at each other with the same surprised look. Their hair was both black as night, and they had the same stormy blue eyes that looked like a raging sea. Robb could understand now why his father had been so surprised when he clapped eyes on Lyra.

"Seven Hells, this can't be my little Storm Queen?!" Robert sounded completely aghast, but still he opened his arms wide. "Come here girl, and give your father a hug!" Robb watched Lyra hesitate, before a large grin spread across her face and she leapt at her father. Most of the people, whether they were part of King Robert's procession, or Northerners, were surprised at the informality between Lyra and the King. But watching them made the fat King seem human. Robb watched the King stumble under the force of Lyra, but he held her tight and kissed the top of her head. King Robert finally lowered Lyra down to the girl and looked her over again. "You look beautiful," he said, almost surprised.

"Lyra!" The cries had come in unison, and Robb's eyes turned, along with the rest of the Stark children's, as two blonde children rushed to Lyra. The king barely had time to move out of the way as Lyra knelt, so she could catch both children in her arms. One was a pretty blonde girl, with eyes of blazing green. And the other was a small, round boy, not much younger than Bran, with the exact colouring. But Robb knew who they had been from the stories Lyra had told him and his siblings about her life before them. The Princess Myrcella was too big for Lyra to lift, but she had picked little Tommen up in her arms and smiled brightly as both children chattered away. But their words mingled with each other as they spoke excitedly about completely different things, that Robb was amazed Lyra could even keep up. _If_ she was keeping up, that was. Robb looked up at he heard his father greet someone else, Queen Cersei was tall, beautiful and golden. She didn't stop to talk to any of the Stark children, but greeted Ned and Catelyn so coldly Robb couldn't believe how different she was to the King.

Robb watched as the Queen made her way towards Lyra and her younger children, and her face seemed to light up at the sight of Lyra.

"My darling," the Queen announced her presence. Lyra let Tommen down before smiling at her mother. Robb thought it was like looking at day and night, but he could see where Lyra had gotten her beauty from. Robb was sure he heard Lyra gasp 'mother', before the queen tugged Lyra tightly into a hug. The embrace seemed far more possessive in comparison to when Lyra had hugged King Robert, but nether-the-less, it was clear there was love there. "You have become quite beautiful," the Queen remarked as she pulled away from Lyra and inspected her with narrow, green eyes.

"Thank you, mother," Lyra said, with a gentle smile. "And you are just as beautiful as I remember, if not more so." The flattery sounded almost forced, but Robb would never dare point it out. The King, however, looked bored with all the pleasantries.

"Take me to the crypts, I wish to pay my respects." King Robert commanded towards Ned. Robb watched as his father hesitated and the Queen's eyes snapped towards her husband with a cruel intensity that made Robb flinch back. But the King didn't seem fazed.

"My love," the Queen pined, "we have been riding for weeks, and surely you should rest. Surely the dead can wait?" Robb saw something pass over the King's face, but he didn't look at Queen Cersei, or Lyra, who had stepped slightly away from her parents.

" _Ned._ " The King hissed. It took another moment before Ned Stark gave in to the King and nodded his head. Robb saw something pass over Lyra's face again, had it been hurt? If it had been, it passed as quickly as it came and Lyra fixed another smile on her face as Prince Tommen tugged on her cloak.

"You are really pretty," Robb heard Tommen say. "I missed you, Ly-Ly." Robb couldn't help but smile then, as he saw Lyra kiss Tommen's forehead. The Queen seemed to have stalked off towards a wheel-house, and began talking to a knight in a golden cloak. Robb didn't like the sight of him.

"I've missed you too," Lyra whispered, as she soothed down Tommen's hair. Lyra may not have looked like her siblings, but she certainly loved them without a doubt.

"And what about me, Sweet sister, did you miss me?" Robb had tried to ignore who, he had assumed to be, Prince Joffery. He walked with an arrogant swagger and his voice oozed with narcissism. Lyra had straightened herself; Joffery was only a few inches taller than her, and Robb was sure he had seen little Tommen cower behind his sister. The two royal siblings stared each other down, and it seemed neither was going to back down, until Lyra flashed Joffery a bright smile that seemed to throw the Prince off guard.

"Of course I missed you, Joff! How could I not miss my baby brother?" A flash of anger and embarrassment crossed Joffery's face, before he caught himself, and he smiled at Lyra just as brightly.

"Good, because I have missed you more than words could describe." The sarcasm was startlingly obvious in Prince Joffery's voice, but it didn't seem to faze Lyra, as she simply smiled at her brother.

* * *

"He really is a little prick," Lyra hissed to Ser Edrew as the two walked towards her chambers. Lyra had desperately wanted to speak with her father, but knew that it could wait until he had finished paying his respects. Lyra saw that Ser Edrew was struggling not to laugh, but she only shook her head. "You can laugh if you want; after all, we know that any unfortunate soul who has ever met Joffery thinks it. Unless they are my mother, of course." Lord Edrew simply shook his head at Lyra was they walked. Lyra thought of seeing her family again, her brief encounter with her siblings and parents had been met by an even briefer encounter with her Uncles Jaime and Tryion – both seemed happier to be shown to their chambers than to stay and talk with their niece. Even her Uncle Renly hadn't been much better, though he had swore to speak to her later.

Seeing her family had been much different in realty than Lyra had thought. Still, has Ser Edrew had reminded her, there was time yet And he hadn't been wrong, just as the two of them rounded a corner, Lyra caught sight of her Uncle Tyrion. He grinned up at Lyra, his mismatched eyes shining as he waddled over to them.

"Lord Tyrion?" Edrew questioned, he sounded surprised, but Lyra knew her Uncle had funny ways of announcing himself. Tyrion waved Ser Edrew off as he stopped in front of the two. Lyra had grown much taller than her Uncle, but he still held the same dangerous air of authority he had always had. Tyrion gave a swift bow, before grinning.

"Well, if I hadn't come with the royal procession, I would surely have thought you were another Northern girl. You have certainly adopted it as your home." Tyrion gestured to Lyra's outfit, and Lyra couldn't help but blush. A part of her wasn't sure why she had dressed as Northern as she could, but another part of her knew exactly why. She wanted to make a point to her mother and father, that she wasn't the same girl that they had sent away all those years ago, that she had wanted to make sure they knew that the North had become her home.

"Well, I knew it was you the moment I saw you, Uncle Tyrion. How have you been?" Lyra asked, she wanted to cringe back from her own words. She thought she sounded like her mother, but Tyrion's grin widened even more.

"You've become as cold as the North," he said with a shake of his blonde head. "And I have done as fine as any man, better once I heard your comment about your brother." Lyra opened her mouth to defend herself, but Tyrion hushed her. "You're right, he really is a prick." Tyrion said it with such a rueful grin, that Lyra could hardly believe it. But after a moment, she was laughing with her Uncle, and Lyra felt like she was nine again, hiding in the library and talking history with her Uncle Tyrion again. "Now, other than whores and wine, I heard Winterfell has a fine collection of books, would you mind showing me?" Tyrion asked, like he had read her mind. Lyra nodded, thankful for whatever distraction would clear Joffery from her thoughts.

* * *

Robert had thumbed down in a chair across from Ned, he had seen to Lyanna, and it did little to lift his mood. The chair creaked underneath Robert's weight, but he chose to ignore it as he drank the wine that had been placed down in front of him. He had more pressing matters to deal with, his daughter. Lyra had grown into quite the beauty, and had truly flourished in the North. Robert had tried to picture her each day and night, but whenever she crossed his mind, he was not prepared for how _grown_ his little girl would look. There had been something so wild and defiant behind her eyes that had shook Robert out of any expectations that she was still the same little girl he had sent away. Robert had read every report about her, even the dull ones, but never had he pictured the girl that had greeted him with the Starks. She looked like she could have been one of them, but when she had said 'your grace', there was no denying she was Robert's little Lyra

"She's grown into quite the young woman, Robert." Ned said with a hint of pride. Robert couldn't blame Ned, though Robert wished to claim all the credit of Lyra's growth to himself, it had been Ned that had fostered her, clothed her, and cared for her. "She's politically savvy, and her love of history has grown. You should see her on her horse, she reminds me of you when she rides. If you gave her a War Hammer, no man would stand a chance against her." Ned joked, and Robert laughed as he remembered Lyra at the age of three, trying to pick up Robert's War Hammer, and grinning whenever she saw it.

"Sometimes I wonder if such skills are wasted on her, Ned." Robert admitted. "She would make an excellent Queen, all of her reports have hinted. But Jon and I spoke about it long ago – she is not heir and so she will wilt under her husband." Robert shook his head. "If she had been a boy she would have been magnificent." Robert growled, if he could name one regret, it would be that Lyra was not born a boy.

"If you find her the right husband, she wouldn't wilt," Ned advised, and he wished he hadn't when he saw the look that passed over Robert's face. "And no, Robert, I do not mean my son." Ned spoke calmly. The topic had been broached more than once through the years in letters, and Ned had swiftly avoided them all, until he was face to face with Robert.

"And why not? Do you think your son is too good for my daughter? Is that it, Ned? Because she is the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms and many a man would be happy to marry her!" Robert roared, his voice echoing off the words, but he stopped and took a deep breath. "This is not what I came here to talk to you about, Lyra can wait. I've come to ask you something."

* * *

Lyra took a sharp breath as one of her maids tightened the strings of her corset. Lyra placed a hand on her stomach - she hated corsets utterly. Lady Stark had insisted that everyone dress their best for the feast that night, Lyra had offered to skip the meal entirely, she did not want to lay eyes on Joffery again, and her family had scarcely acknowledged her. Still, Lady Stark had placed Lyra at the head of the table with her family, sandwiched between her mother and Joffery. Lyra understood that Catelyn had meant nothing bad by sitting Lyra with her family, but she would have much rather sit with the Stark children.

"You are looking beautiful tonight," one of the maids hummed as she helped Lyra into a green dress that reminded Lyra of her mother's eyes. Still, Lyra felt little comfort as she eyed herself in the mirror. She didn't feel beautiful, she felt reminded of her part in the world. Her hair had been braided, but it wasn't in the Northern style, but it had been braided in the Southern style at request of her mother. The Northern maids seemed to struggle with Lyra's thick hair and the intricate braids, but had done, what Lyra thought, an excellent job. They decorated her in fine jewelry, and when they had finished, all the maids took a step back to admire their work. One of the maids brushed out Lyra's cotton skirts, she could not wear brilliant silk in Winterfell.

Walking down to the dining hall felt like walking to the docks - and how couldn't it? She would be scrutinized completely for her looks, by both her mother and her father. Lyra held her breath at the idea of sitting by Joffery. When he had laid eyes on her, he had forced himself to be polite, their had been too many eyes on him. But in the feast, both Joffery and his actions would be hidden in plain sight. Lyra was the first of the royal family to arrive in the hall, and she heard the scrapping of the benches as the Northmen stood, even Lord and Lady Stark stood for her. Lyra couldn't understand why, she wasn't the king, but nobody sat until Lyra had made her way through the hall and nestled into her seat. Lyra had sat for a few moments before the rest of the hall joined her. A kitchen maid came over and poured some wine into Lyra's goblet, and Lyra happily drank it. Just as her goblet was being refilled again, the doors to the dining hall opened again, and Lyra stood, with the rest of the hall, as her father entered.

Robert Baratheon was not quite how Lyra remembered, he had gotten heavier, and his beard had gotten longer and far more unkept. He marched up to the table and sat himself down. Cersei Lannister entered next, Ser Jaime by her side, just as Lyra always remembered him to be. Joffery swaggered in as Myrcella walked in hand-in-hand with Tommen. Once all the royal family had settled in (Lyra hadn't seen her Uncle Tyrion enter), the hall sat with them and the wine began to pour as people lurched forward for food. Lyra could hear Catelyn try and make conversation with Cersei, but Lyra could see it was doing nothing. Cersei remained like a statue, where Robert spoke to Ned rather animated. Neither of her parents looked towards her.

Lyra felt the constant pang of self-pity. Was it to be expected? She wasn't sure, but she had thought her family would have been far more excited to see her than they were proving to be. Even if she wanted to make the effort, Lyra didn't know where to start, she felt like she was sitting among strangers. Lyra heard Joffery cough, or was it a laugh? In truth, it sounded like a mangled mixture and had startled Lyra. She turned to Joffery with raised brows, but when she saw the smirk on his face, she could tell he was perfectly alright.

"How does it feel?" He asked her, cutting into some of the meat on his plate. Lyra had barely touched the food on her own plate, but that didn't bother her. She cocked her head at Joffery.

"How does what feel?" Joffery met her eyes then, they were piercing emeralds that shown ever bright. Joffery shrugged his shoulders and gave a quick look at their parents behind them before he continued eating.

"How does it feel to no longer be Father's favourite? You've been gone for years, and he will barely look at you. At least Mother still loves me, perhaps you aren't so important anymore." Lyra tried not to flinch at Joffery's words. She had remembered Joffery's cruelty, how he could use his words as powerful weapons just like he used his fist. Lyra took a deep breath, she had to be careful with her mother sitting directly beside her.

"I don't know Joffery, how does it feel not to be Papa's favourite? He's paid you no mind either." Lyra countered, reaching for her fork and knife. Joffery shot out a hand and gripped hold of Lyra's wrist, tight. He squeezed Lyra's wrist hard and she thought she would loose her hand for a second. Her eyes shot towards Joffery in a panic, and Lyra could see the perplexed look on his face as he realised his own strength. "Joff?" Lyra asked, but it did little to no good.

"Watch where you step, sister, Father will not be king forever. And when I wear the crown, I will ensure you will pay for your words -"

"Sorry to interrupt," the voice cut through Joffery's threat like a blade, and Lyra was thankful when she turned to see Robb. He smiled down at the royal siblings, his red hair curling at his temples slightly. "I was wondering if I could dance with you, Mi'Lady?" Robb offered Lyra a hand, but fixed Joffery with a steely glare. Joffery released Lyra, but slowly. It was clear he didn't take to being interrupted by Robb. Lyra took Robb's hand gratefully, and allowed herself to be pulled away by the Stark boy. As they reached the floor, Robb encircled Lyra gently, but enough so he could inspect her wrist without being caught.

"He doesn't mean too," Lyra said suddenly, "my mother has always protected Joffery from our father's wrath, he's never been punished so doesn't always understand that hurting people isn't right." Robb swayed them back and forth and Lyra didn't understand why she was defending her brother. Robb didn't say anything as they moved slowly, they were almost out of time to the beat of the music, their dancing not quite following the flow, but Lyra had never felt safer.

Robb continued to dance slowly, and Lyra wanted to pick up the pace, people would be looking at them shortly if they didn't. But nothing seemed to bother Robb as they moved, that was until something grabbed a right hold of Lyra's skirts. She turned to see little Rickon looking up at her with tired eyes, his arms outstretched. Robb gazed at his brother too, he looked just as surprised as Lyra felt at seeing the small boy in the sea of dancing adults.

"I want to dance too," Rickon whined, Lyra saw Lady Stark stand, she had clearly spotted Rickon too. Lyra gave a gentle smile before scooping up the small child in her arms, and looked at Robb.

"Shall we?" Robb asked, as he ruffled Rickon's hair, a crooked smile on his face. The appearance of his brother had clearly distracted him slightly.

* * *

Robert eyed Lyra as she got up to dance with Robb Stark, though he was surrounded by kitchen maids (all of whom he grabbed at with his large hands, and groped at whatever part of their body he could), he still watched Lyra with eagle eyes. Lyra had the youngest Stark boy in her arms, and as they danced, Robert thought they looked more married than any other couple in the room. The young boys giggles seemed to fill the room, and whenever Lyra turned, Robert was greeted with the brightest of smiles. He couldn't quite believe his eyes at first when he had first saw her, but of course, all girls did grow eventually.

"What do you think of my lovely daughter?" Robert asked the kitchen maid that was sitting on his knee. She wasn't he prettiest of girls, Robert thought, but she would do. The maid's eyes focused on Lyra, and she smiled slightly.

"The Lady Lyra?" The maid sounded slightly surprised. "Yes, she is most certainly a lovely girl, very kind." Robert hummed as he watched Lyra spin away from Robb, the youngest Stark boy giggling loudly in her arms. Robert was surprised to see Lyra kiss the small boy on the side of the temple, but when she looked up and saw Robert looking at her, Lyra curtsyed low before her face lighting up as Robb joined back into the dance. They were a handsome couple, Robert thought, and if he had been mistaken, he would of thought the young lad in Lyra's arms had belonged to Lyra herself. Robert glanced up and saw Cersei looking down from her high seat, but for a change, her glare was not directed at Robert, but at Lyra.

* * *

"Your daughter is certainly fond of the Starks," Jaime whispered, just low enough for Cersei to hear. Cersei didn't want to admit that her brother was right, but seeing Lyra dance with the eldest Stark boy had been difficult to watch. It was clear her eldest daughter had acquired Robert's affections for the Northerners, and it was even clearer that Lyra wasn't ready to disregard any of those affections willingly. Cersei watched as Lyra spun with the small boy in her arms - she certainly looked the part of a Northern bride.

"Well," Cersei clicked, "she will have to say her goodbye's soon." Cersei whispered back, her eyes not leaving her eldest daughter. Seeing Lyra again had been like seeing the stars for the first time, Cersei had to admit that her daughter was growing into a great beauty. But seeing Lyra had also been as sharp as a cut from a blade. Everything that she had grown to be, and everything she could be, had nothing to do with Cersei. Her daughter had been taken from her, and raised by another family. Lyra was as little a Lannister now than she had been before. But worse, she was more like Robert in looks than Cersei could have predicted, and even as she uttered the words to Jaime, Cersei knew the threat her daughter would present, even if Lyra didn't know it herself.

"What?" Jaime spluttered, coughing on his wine. "You can't be serious?" Lyra had placed down the child she had been holding, dismissed herself and wondered off through the crowds. The eldest Stark boy looked surprised, but picked up his younger brother without a sign of protest. Cersei watched as Lyra disappeared through the crowds until she could no longer see her. Northern Lord's readily greeted her as she walked passed, and Cersei saw her daughter had become far too at home in the North.

"She doesn't belong here, besides, she's far more dangerous out of our reach than in it." Cersei reasoned, looking away from the door her daughter had exited from and turning back to her brother. "And we wouldn't want her out of our control."

* * *

Lyra found Jon exactly where Robb said she would, he was sitting in the stables, looking both tired and drunk. Lyra walked towards him carefully, she was sure someone would spot her if she wasn't careful. The cold wind whipped at her face and she wished she had worn a cloak as it swooped up under her skirts and tickled at her legs. As she neared Jon, Lyra was certain he was sleeping, but when she stepped inside the stables, it was clear he was wide awake. His eyes focused on Lyra, and a lazy smile formed on his face as he stumbled to get to his feet. Jon dropped in a dramatic bow, and straightened himself unsettlingly quickly, it was like he had almost thrown himself off balance. Lyra stepped forward to catch him, but Jon only held out a hand.

"It's fine, I've got it." He grumbled, sitting back down on the bale of hay. Lyra blinked, before slowly lowering herself down beside Jon. "What's wrong?" He asked, "not enjoying the feast?" Jon's voice wasn't as slurred as Lyra thought, and Lyra was sure that he was only acting the fool so that she wouldn't talk to him. Lyra thought about their conversation weeks ago, and how she had never had the courage to as Jon anymore about it. But, when Lyra had seen Benjen Stark, she instantly thought of Jon. He couldn't join the Night's Watch, was it selfish of her, to want him to remain as close to her as possible? Was it awful? Lyra gave Jon a smile.

"I was, but it would have been better if you were there." Lyra said, giving Jon a small nudge, "I mean, how many more feasts will we have together before you leave for the Wall?" Jon's head shot up then, and his eyes focused on Lyra with more intensity than she would have ever expected. "Don't act surprised, did you think that I would have forgotten? I couldn't forget such a thing, Jon."

"Would you forget me though, when I go?" Jon asked. The two sat in silence as Lyra thought. She had remembered Jon comforting her when she had had nightmares, of the times they had raced up hills and back towards Winterfell. She thought of how she had loved him, but didn't quite know _how_ she had loved him. Finally, Lyra shook her head. Jon had become as much of her world as any other part of the North. It would take a lot for her to forget him, and even then, Lyra couldn't imagine she would forget him completely. Jon smiled, and Lyra was sure he looked relieved. "Tyrion said you would say something like that." Lyra jumped then, and looked at Jon bewildered.

"You spoke with my Uncle Tyrion?" Lyra hadn't realised when Jon had taken her hand, but when he had, he held it loosely, giving her the chance to pull away. Lyra didn't, she held his hand back and stared at the stable wall. It wasn't like being with Robb at all, where Lyra felt at peace with the world, being with Jon was like sitting on a pile of butterflies.

"He said you wouldn't forget me if I left for the Wall. I told him I rather you did, and that Robb would take good care of you." Jon spoke softly, his eyes fluttering shut. "We father no sons at the Wall, we have no lovers. Our only family are those who wear the black with us." Jon whispered softly, his eyes still shut.

"Jon-"

"Lyra, please, can we just sit like this for a while?" Jon asked, and Lyra nodded her head. She had lost her voice, all words had failed her as she looked down at her and Jon's interlocked hands. It felt like the Gods were testing Lyra, and there was no way for her to pass. So, she simply sat with Jon as she thought. She thought of each of the Starks in turn, but then she thought of her father.

The Mighty Robert Baratheon had come back for his daughter, and he wasn't like she remembered at all. When Lyra had pictured her father, he had been noble like Ned Stark, handsome like the Prince's in the fairytales, ad kind. But now that Lyra was older, she had realised how warped her perception was of her father, and when she looked down at Jon and thought of Robb, Lyra realised how much like her father she had become. And she hated it.

 _ **(A/N: Another huge thank you for all the kind reviews, follows and favourites. I'm so sorry this update has taken so long, but life has been hectic with family problems and with work. Please enjoy this chapter, and I hope to update sooner next time!)**_


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